APRILLY 

JANE  ABBOTT 


APRILLY 


SHE  COULD  NOT  BELIEVE  SHE  WAS  AT  WINDOVER  UNTIL  SHE  HAD  FELT 
THE  SEA-WIND  WHIP  HER  CHEEKS 

Chapter  XXIX 


APRILLY 


BY 

JANE  ABBOTT 


AUTHOR  OF 

VHAPPY  HOUSE,  KEINETH, 

LARKSPUR,  ETC. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

HARRIET  ROOSEVELT  RICHARDS 


GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

''PUBLISHERS  NEW     YORK 

\NUdeinthe  United  Stated 


COPYRIGHT,  1931.  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


TO 

THE  APRIL-GIRLS  IN  THIS  WORLD 
I  DEDICATE   THIS   STORY 


2O3( 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    ON  THE  WAV  TO  BLOSSOM n 

II.    TOTO'S  SACRIFICE 19 

III.  POOR  QUEENIE 29 

IV.  THE  HIRED  GIRL 41 

V.    DEBORAH  DECIDES 54 

VI.    APRIL  MEETS  THE  MEREDITHS 66 

VII.    MR.  NICE-FACE 78 

VIII.    LEILA  LIGHTWOOD 90 

IX.    SACKCLOTH 101 

X.    GULLFAXI in 

XI.    THE  FAIR 122 

XII.    PAYING  THE  PIPER 128 

XIII.  WINDOVER 139 

XIV.  AT  THE  SUGAR  BOWL 152 

XV.    GHOSTS  AND  APPLE  BLOSSOMS 162 

XVI.    CHANGES 173 

XVII.    THE  ACCIDENT 183 

XVIII.    ROSE  GOES  TO  NEW  YORK 197 

XIX.    iNN-You-Go 205 

XX.    POOR  KEITH 214 

XXI.    THE  STRANGER 221 

XXII.    JUSTICE 228 

XXIII.  TOTO 234 

XXIV.  AT  THE  RECTORY 241 

XXV.    APRIL'S  STORM 249 

XXVI.  ROSEMARY 256 

XXVII.  OUT  OF  THE  RING 263 

XXVIII.  AT  WINDOVER  POINT 268 

XXDC.    APRIL'S  SUNSHINE...  274 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

SHE  COULD  NOT  BELIEVE  SHE  WAS  AT  WINDOVER  UNTIL 
SHE  HAD  FELT  THE   SEA-WIND   WHIP  HER  CHEEKS 

Frontispiect 

APRIL  FOLLOWED  Miss  MANNY'S  UNFRIENDLY  BACK  UP 
THE  PATH  To  THE  PORCH 45 

"GULLFAXI,  Gullfaxi,"  WHISPERED  APRIL 1 18 

THEN  THE  GIRLS  SHOWED  HIM  THE  ANTIQUES 210 


APRILLY 

CHAPTER  I 
ON  THE  WAY  TO  BLOSSOM 

Year  in  and  year  out  the  Boston-Portland  local 
pulled  out  of  the  Boston  terminal  at  thirty  minutes 
past  four.  At  twenty-five  minutes  past  four,  on  an 
afternoon  in  early  June,  a  tall  young  man  elbowed 
his  way  to  one  of  the  little  windows  of  the 
ticket  office. 

"Blossom,  please.    How  much?" 

"Return?" 

"N-no." 

"Two  dollars  and  seventy  cents." 

The  young  man  passed  the  money  through  the 
window,  snatched  the  small  ticket  and  moved  away. 

Behind  him  stood  a  young  girl.  Many  girls 
stepped  to  the  little  window  and  purchased  tickets 
but  in  this  girl  there  was  something  so  unusual  that, 
for  a  moment,  the  ticket  agent  stared.  A  floppy- 
brimmed  cerise  hat,  banded  by  huge  poppies,  shad- 
owed her  thin  face,  a  faded  green  silk  coat  hung 
loosely  on  the  slender  figure — yet  is  was  not  these 

ii 


12  APRILLY 

bizarre  garments  that  held  the  man's  attention,  it 
was  the  frightened  defiance  burning  in  the  big  eyes 
and  written  on  the  tightly  compressed  lips. 

She  edged  closer  to  the  window.  "I  want  a 
ticket/'  in  a  small  voice. 

"Whereto,  miss?" 

"Oh-h,  I  want  that — that  two-dollar-and-sev- 
enty-cent  ticket."  She  spoke  breathlessly,  giving 
a  hurried  glance  over  her  shoulder.  "Hurry,  please." 

"Where  y'going?"  The  ticket  agent  scowled. 
He  had  no  time  for  "nonsense." 

"Where-where  that  man's  going.  I  mean — that 
place!"  She  could  not,  of  course,  tell  this  cross- 
looking  man,  glowering  at  her  through  the  iron  grat- 
ing of  the  window,  that  she  didn't  care  where  she 
went  so  long  as  she  went  away  from  Boston; 
that,  because  she  happened  to  have  exactly  two  dol- 
lars and  eighty  cents  she  might  as  well  buy  the  two- 
dollar-and-seventy-cent  ticket.  "Blossom  or-or  some- 
thing," she  finished,  falteringly. 

"Blossom,  Maine.  Better  be  sure  where  you 
want  to  go  next  time  or  stay  home."  The  man  flung 
the  ticket  across  to  the  girl  and  gathered  up  the 
money  she  emptied  from  a  beaded  purse 

"Oh,  I  wonder  if  I've  lost  him,"  thought  the 
girl  as  she  moved  away  from  the  window.  Her  eyes 
swept  the  crowd  anxiously.  There  he  was — the  tall, 
broad  shouldered  young  man.  He  had  stopped  to 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  BLOSSOM  13 

buy  a  newspaper.  Gripping  her  bulging  bag  in 
both  hands  the  girl  fled  toward  him. 

It  was  not  because  he  was  good  looking  that  she 
had  followed  him  for  four  blocks,  almost  running 
to  keep  up  with  his  giant  stride;  it  was  because  he 
carried  a  suitcase  and,  therefore,  must  be — she  had 
reasoned — headed  for  a  railroad  station.  She  would 
have  followed  him  if  he  had  been  decrepit  and  hoary. 
Now  it  gave  her  confidence,  to  know  that  they  were 
both  going  to  Blossom — wherever  that  was.  She 
could  stand  at  his  elbow  and  do  exactly  what  he  did. 

So  close  behind  him  she  nudged  her  way  through 
the  pressing  crowd ;  she  showed  her  ticket  to  the  man 
at  the  gate  just  as  he  had  done,  and  at  his  very  heels 
went  through  the  brass-railed  passage  and  up  and 
down  a  flight  of  stairs. 

"Blossom?"  the  young  man  asked  the  conductor 
who  stood  outside  of  the  car. 

"Yessir." 

"Blossom?"     asked  the  girl. 

"Yes'm."  The  conductor  smiled,  took  the  bulg- 
ing grip  and  swung  it  up  to  the  platform. 

The  young  man  sat  down  on  one  of  the  red 
plush  seats,  laid  his  straw  hat  beside  him,  unfolded 
the  newspaper  and  fell  to  reading  it,  utterly  uncon- 
scious that  there  was  a  young  lady  traveling 
with  him ! 

The  girl  sat  down  directly  behind  him,  snuggled 


i4  APRILLY 

her  big  bag  at  her  feet  and  drew  a  long,  quivery 
breath,  as  though  it  was  the  first  she  had  dared  to 
draw  for  sometime. 

"A-a-al  a-a-boo-rrd  1"  sang  the  conductor  out- 
side. With  a  grinding  and  a  creaking  and  a  hiss- 
ing the  train  moved  slowly  forward  through  the 
murky  trainshed,  then  out  into  the  afternoon  sun- 
light. Faster  and  faster  the  brick  walls  shot  past 
the  car  window.  In  an  ecstasy  of  relief  the  girl 
dropped  back  against  the  car  seat.  Whatever  lay 
before  her  in  Blossom,  wherever  that  was,  Boston — 
and  Fleming  Street — would  very  soon  be  behind  her ! 

Yet  that  thought  must  have  carried  with  it  some 
desolation,  for  the  moment's  glow  of  excitement 
suddenly  gave  way  to  a  frightened  look  and  a  threat 
of  tears. 

"But  I'd  rather  go  anywhere!  I  hope  I  never, 
never,  never  see  you  again!"  the  girl  apostrophized 
the  flying  buildings.  "Blossom  can't  be  so  very  bad 
or  you  wouldn't  be  going  there,  Mr.  Nice- face.  I'll 
pretend  I'm  your  daughter— or — or  your — sister — 
something  that  belongs  to  you.  You  want  to  read  your 
newspaper  so  I'll  sit  back  and  be  very  quiet."  Thus 
she  struggled  to  rally  her  faltering  spirit. 

After  a  few  moments  she  grew  aware  of  a  group 
of  young  people  directly  across  the  car  from  her.  One, 
especially,  a  young  girl  of  her  own  age,  caught  and 
held  her  attention.  She  was  very  pretty.  She 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  BLOSSOM  15 

laughed  a  great  deal  and  her  eyes  sparkled  when  she 
laughed.  She  wore  a  blue  silk  turban  set  jauntily 
atop  of  trimly  coiled  red  hair.  All  animation,  she 
was  talking  with  the  girl  who  shared  her  seat  and 
the  boy  who  sat  in  front  of  her.  Their  chatter  was 
noisy  and  punctuated  by  bursts  of  laughter,  as 
though  their  hearts  were  very  light.  It  was  of  school, 
mostly,  and  school-mates — "Sniffy"  and  "Dodie" 
and  "Bobs"  and  "Cub."  They  had  coats  and  furs 
and  innumerable  boxes  and  bags  piled  about  them; 
the  girls  held  ukelele  cases  and  the  boy  had  a  banjo 
case  and  gold  clubs.  He  called  the  girls  "Chris" 
and  "Rose"  and  they  called  him  "Keith." 

"Poor  old  dad  was  awfully  cut  up  to  send  us  off 
up  here!  I  made  a  dreadfully  unpleasant  row,  I 
guess.  But  I  did  want  to  go  to  Minniwanka.  I 
shan't  mind  it  so  much,  though,  with  you  up  there, 
Rose.  Forest  Hill  is  awfully  old  and  pretty  even 
if  it  is  as  dull  as  a  graveyard." 

"Dull  nothing!"  the  boy  broke  in.  "There's 
fun  enough.  Trouble  with  you,  Chris,  'sthat  you 
don't  think  there's  anything  but  dancing  There's 
tennis  and  golf  up  the  coast  at  Old  Point  and  sailing 
and  fishing  and  the  lighthouse.  OJd  Cap'n  Merry, 
who  used  to  be  the  lighthouse  keeper  knows  the  most 
yarns.  And  the  farm — " 

"Keith  likes  such  stupid  things,"  Chrissy  retor* 
ted  "Just  wait  until  you  see  Blossom !" 


16  APRILLY 

The  girl  across  the  car  sat  suddenly  alert.  These 
young  people  were  going  to  Blossom,  too — what  a 
pretty  name,  her  favorite  name !  And  she  liked  the 
name  Keith;  the  boy  was  freckled  and  jolly  and  he 
had  spoken  of  such  interesting  things — the  light- 
house and  its  keeper  and  the  fishing  people.  Chrissy 
was  not  as  pretty  as  Rose  but  she  had  a  lively  manner 
and  a  f  acinating  voice. 

"Swells,"  the  girl  called  them,  mentally.  She 
wondered  where  they  were  going  in  Blossom,  why 
they  were  going,  to  whom  they  belonged.  Think- 
ing all  these  things  about  these  interesting  young 
people  kept  from  her  mind  the  dreadful  question 
which  she  must  face  but  would  not  face  until  the 
very  last  moment — where  was  she  going  when  she 
reached  Blossom? 

Presently  the  girl  Chrissy,  glancing  across  the 
car,  spied  the  cerise  hat.  She  managed,  by  a  nod  of 
her  head  and  a  twinkle  in  her  eye,  to  draw  Rose's 
attention  to  it,  also. 

But  Rose  smiled,  a  kind  little  smile. 

"Traveling  alone?" 

"I — I'm  going  to— Blossom." 

Immediately  the  three  were  interested. 

"Oh,  are  you?  Do  you  live  there?"  Chrissy 
asked. 

"N— no.    That  is,  not— exactly." 

"I'm  sure  I  would  have  known  it,"  Miss  Chrissy 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  BLOSSOM  17 

laughed.  "There  can't  be  more  than  one  hundred 
people  in  the  whole  town  and  they  all  go  to  the  post- 
office  every  evening.  And  I've  never  seen  you." 

"We  haven't  been  there  for  two  years  and  Blos- 
som has  eight  hundred  inhabitants,"  retorted  Keith. 

"Counting  the  chickens  and  the  pigs  and  cows 
and  old  Simon  Tewksbury  twice  who's  crazy  and 
thinks  he's  somebody  else !" 

"Will  you  have  some  candy?"  asked  Rose,  pas- 
sing a  box  of  bonbons. 

The  girl  took  a  piece  of  the  candy,  eating  it  with 
relish  for  she  was  very  hungry.  The  others  went  on 
talking,  apparently  forgetting  her  existence ;  she  was 
left  alone  with  the  pleasant  speculations  which  made 
her  forget  unpleasant  realities.  The  nice- faced  man 
had  tossed  aside  his  paper  and  was  reading  a  maga- 
zine he  had  taken  from  his  grip. 

After  a  long  while  the  brakeman  shouted  through 
the  car  that  Blossom  was  the  next  stop.  Among  the 
young  people  there  was  an  excited  and  hurried  gath- 
ering up  of  wraps  and  bags.  The  tall  young  man 
put  his  magazine  back  in  his  suitcase  and  his  hat  on 
his  head.  To  conceal  her  own  sudden  agitation  the 
girl  leaned  quickly  over  her  bag. 

The  boy  Keith  hesitated  a  moment  in  the  aisle. 
"May  I  carry  your  grip?"  he  asked  pleasantly, 
though  he  was  already  laden  down  with  luggage, 

"Oh,  no— I — thanks,"  and  the  girl  hung  back 


i8  APRILLY 

that  they  might  all,  even  Mr.  Nice- face,  pass  on  down 
the  aisle  ahead  of  her. 

"Isn't  she  the  rarest  thing  in  those  clothes?" 
came  back  Chrissy's  whisper. 

Four  of  Keith's  eight  hundred  inhabitants — five, 
counting  the  telegraph  operator — were  on  the  plat- 
form of  the  little  station  at  Blossom.  One,  a  man 
with  a  shiny  cap  and  leggins,  stepped  up  to  Keith  and 
touched  his  forehead  in  salutation. 

"Oh,  hullo,  Riggs,"  was  Keith's  only  response 
as  he  unceremoniously  dumped  his  burden  into  the 
man's  arms. 

Two  of  the  four  approached  Mr.  Nice- face.  The 
fourth  stared  up  and  down  the  length  of  the  plat- 
form, down  the  track  after  the  rapidly  disappear- 
ing train,  and  then  at  the  girl,  standing  forlornly 
by  the  side  of  her  old  bag. 

"Be  ye  the  gal  Miss  Debory  Manny's  'specting 
from  her  advertisn'  ?  I  f  ye  be  I'm  Jeremy  Waite  and 
Miss  Debory  asked  me  to  pick  you  up.  That's  my 
hoss  and  buggy  over  yan  and  I'll  git  ye  to  Manny's  in 
the  shake  of  a  lamb's  tail.  Jest  hand  me  thet  thar 
bag,  missy,  if  ye  be." 

The  girl  caught  her  breath  and  the  color  flooded 
her  pale  cheeks.  She  had  never  heard  of  Miss  De- 
bory Manny — but  she  must  go  somewhere  f 


CHAPTER  II 
TOTO'S  SACRIFICE 

On  an  evening,  ten  years  before  the  spring  after- 
noon when  a  young  girl  challenged  Fate  with  a  two- 
doilar-and-seventy-cent  railroad  ticket,  two  persons, 
a  man  and  a  woman,  in  a  stuffy  hotel  room,  faced 
one  another  through  a  cloud  of  cigarette  smoke. 

That  it  was  the  woman's  room  was  evident  from 
the  garments  thrown  carelessly  here  and  there,  from 
the  open  trunks  over  which  hung  more  clothes,  from 
the  bureau  where  photographs,  letters,  brushes,  bot- 
tles and  jars  were  scattered  in  indifferent  confusion, 
topped  by  a  gold-yellow  wig.  Indeed,  the  wig  had 
been  thrown  there  only  a  moment  before  and  the 
woman  was  running  the  fingers  of  one  hand  through 
the  thin  strands  of  drab  colored  hair  which  really 
grew  on  her  head  while  with  the  other  she  stifled 
a  wide  yawn. 

"Toto,  what's  the  matter  with  you?  You  were 
rotten  to-night — anyone  could  tell.  You  only  got 
half  a  laugh  from  the  crowd — you  oughter  gotten 
more.  I  knew — I  was  watching.  What's  on  your 
mind,  Toto?  Tell  Queenie!  You  ain't  the  same. 
Is  it  Rosemary  that's  worrying  you,  maybe?" 

The  man  who,  to  thousands,  from  coast  to  coast, 

19 


ao  APRILLY 

was  Toto,  the  Prince  of  Clowns  and  to  a  few,  so 
very  few  that  it  had  been  forgotten,  was  Alfred 
Meredith,  rose  from  his  chair  and  paced  the  room 
with  quick  steps.  He  was  small  and  straight  and 
lithe  and  well-built,  with  a  wrinkled,  reddish  face, 
a  big,  humorous  mouth  like  a  jolly  boy's,  and  nar- 
row, twinkly  eyes.  The  eyes  were  not  twinkling 
much  now  though,  they  were  sombre. 

The  woman  regarded  him  with  the  proud  fond- 
ness a  mother  might  show  for  a  big  boy.  "If  it's 
Rosemary,  I  tell  you,  Toto,  she's  all  right.  I  saw 
her  a  week  ago  Monday  and  she  was  as  bloomin'  as 
the  posy  itself.  And  as  cute  as  could  be — the  two 
o'  them !  Like  little  twin  flowers  growin'  in  a  garden. 
And  she's  as  like  your  Kitty  as  two  peas.  It  made  the 
tears  come  to  my  eyes  to  look  at  her  and  to  think — " 
The  woman  stopped  abruptly;  her  words  were  not 
having  the  comforting  effect  upon  her  companion 
for  which  she  sought.  He  had  stopped  in  his  pac- 
ing and  had  groaned. 

"Kitty!  Kitty!  I  believe,  Queenie,  that  half  of 
me's  buried  with  her.  I  can't  forget  her !  I  can't — 
O  God — "  He  covered  his  face. 

"There,  there,  Toto,  don't  let  it  get  you  like  that. 
She  was  the  sweetest,  best — "  Tears  ran  down  over 
the  woman's  painted  cheeks.  "But  she  wouldn't 
want  you  to  say  that — not  her!  Buck  up,  Toto. 
You  got  Rosemary.  And  I've  been  to  her  just  what 


TOTO'S  SACRIFICE  21 

I  am  to  my  own  kid — for  didn't  I  love  Kitty  better'n 
anyone  on  earth  I  ever  knew?  I  haven't  for- 
gotten how  good  she  was  to  Queenie  when  my 
precious  better  half  skipped  off — with  her  tender, 
lovin'  ways!" 

"Don't!"  cried  the  man  angrily.  "I  can't  en- 
dure it."  Then  his  tone  softened.  "I'm  a  brute  to 
talk  to  you  like  that,  after  all  you've  done  for  me — 
and  the  baby.  Queenie,  you  say  she's  well — she's 
happy — and — cute — and — and  looks  like — Kitty?" 

"Why,  yes.  But  ain't  you  going  down?  Why, 
I  thought,  with  the  show  coming  here  we'd  both 
run  down.  I  wrote  to  Mrs.  Houck  and  told  her  we 
would  and  to  have  Rosemary  fixed  up  pretty." 

The  man  was  staring  in  a  queer  way;  he  had 
scarcely  heard  what  she  said. 

"Queenie,  has  she— red  hair?     Like  Kitty's?" 

"The  cutest,  softest  little  red  curls  like  Kitty's 
used  to  be  in  her  neck.  Don't  you  remember — on 
hot  days?  I  can  see  her  now  waiting  in  the  dress- 
ing room  for  you,  all  smilin'  and  cool  when  the  rest 
of  us  were  hot  and  tired — " 

"Queenie,  she  was  too  good  to  be  a  clown's 
wife.  Just  a  clown — " 

"Now  don't  you  say  that,  Toto.  I've  lived  in  the 
ring  since  I  was  big  enough  to  stand  on  my  toes  and 
I've  known  good  men  and  bad  men  and  there's  as 
many  outside  of  the  ring  as  inside !  Look  at  the 


*2  APRILLY 

man  I  married — thought  I  was  doin'  well,  didn't  I, 
marry  in'  out  of  the  ring?  Kitty  was  the  sweetest 
little  flower  I  ever  knew  but  she  wasn't  a  bit  better 
a  woman  than  you  are  a  man,  Alfred  Meredith. 
And  ain't  you  college  bred?  A  swell?  She  flung 
the  words  at  him  defiantly. 

"It  doesn't  matter  much  what  I  was,  Queenie. 
I'm  a  clown  now." 

"And  the  best  clown  all  over  the  world !  I  guess 
there's  many  a  bank  president  would  just  as  soon 
draw  down  the  salary  Toto  gets.  Give  me  another 
cigarette,  Toto.  Queenie  has  to  swear  off  when  she's 
'round  those  precious  kids  but  not  now.  Say  Toto, 
didn't  you  close  up  a  pretty  good  contract  with  Bush- 
man to  go  with  the  show  to  'Frisco?  'Sthat  what's 
put  you  in  the  dumps?" 

"Queenie — "  the  man  spoke  slowly,  "you're  the 
best  friend  I've  had — " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Toto,  the  great 
clown  and  me — just  La  Belle  Queen!" 

"Queenie,  Kitty  knew  your  real  worth.  You 
said  you  had  known  good  men  and  good  women  in 
the  ring.  Well,  so  have  we — I  mean,  so  have  I. 
Didn't  I  go  to  you  first,  four  years  ago,  when  Kitty 
died?  You  were  the  only  one  I'd  trust  Kitty's  baby 
with.  You  had  your  own  to  take  care  of  so  I 
knew  you'd  make  room  in  your  heart  for  my  poor 
wee  one." 


TOTO'S  SACRIFICE  25 

"The  cunnin'  little  kid,  I  couldn't  love  her  more 
if  she  was  my  own — if  my  baby'd  been  twins!" 
"Queenie,  I  want  you  to  help  me  now." 
"I'd  do  anything  for  you,   Toto — for  Kitty's 
sake." 

"This  is  for  the  baby's." 
"What  is  it,  Toto?  You  act  queer !" 
"Oh,  I've  had  this  in  mind  for  some  time.  You 
see,  Queenie,  I  haven't  always  been  a  clown — " 
"I  know — you  wasn't  born  in  the  ring  like  me!" 
"My  father  wanted  me  to  go  into  the  business 
with  him — selling  ship's  supplies !  Can  you  see  me 
at  it  ?  But  I  got  to  going  on  in  amateur  things,  dur- 
ing vacations,  and  in  college  stunts.  It  had  a  fasci- 
nation for  me  that  I  couldn't  shake.  I  used  to  feel 
the  crowd,  especially  the  kids,  and  it — went  to  my 
head — like  wine.  The  time  came  when  my  father 
said  I'd  got  to  cut  it  out,  that  I  disgraced  him  and 
wasted  my  time.  We  had  words  over  it — hasty 
words  I've  wished  since  I  hadn't  said.  And  I  swore 
I  wouldn't  go  into  his  business.  I  went  away,  out 
West,  and,  to  show  him,  I  signed  up  with  a  small 
circus  under  this  name  I've  used  ever  since — Toto 
Conge.  He  died  not  long  after  that — and  disinheri- 
ted me.  I  didn't  care  about  the  money  but  I  hated  the 
feeling  that  my  family — what  was  left  of  it — looked 
down  upon  me.  I've  always  hated  that,  even  when  I 
was  most  successful,  even  when  Kitty  said  she'd  love 


24  APRILLY 

me.  But  I  guess  Toto'll  always  be  Toto.  I  can't 
change  now.  I  quit  once,  you  know,  but  I  got  a 
hundred  letters  from  kids  all  over  and  they  came 
just  when  I  was  blue  and  life  without  Kitty 
didn't  seem  worth  living.  I  went  back.  This  clown 
business  is  all  right  for  me,  Queenie — but  it's  not — 
for  Rosemary." 

"What  d'you  mean"  ?     the  woman  asked  sharply. 

"I  mean — I  don't  want  my  girl — Kitty's  girl — 
to  grow  up — the  daughter  of  a  clown !" 

"I  guess  she  can  be  pretty  proud  of  Toto!" 

"Queenie,  that's  all  right — from  you.  But  you 
know  and  I  know  how  the  world  will  think  of 
her.  Toto's  daughter!  There'll  be  nothing  but 
the  ring—" 

Suddenly  Queenie's  face  dropped  into  her  arms. 
A  sob  shook  her  shoulders. 

"Toto,  don't  you  say  that!  Don't  I  know? 
Wasn't  that  what  I  hitched  up  to  that  miserable  Stan- 
ton  Dangerfield  for — to  get  away  from  the  ring  and 
have  a  kid  like  other  women?  And  yet  my  baby's 
just  like  you  said — Queenie's  daughter;  there'll  be 
nothing  but  the  ring  for  her !  But  I've  never  let  my- 
self say  it.  And  now  you  come  along  and — " 

"Queenie,  don't.  I  hadn't  thought— of  your  little 
girl.  I  didn't  know  you  cared.  Have  you — 
any  relatives  ?" 

Queenie  drew  her  hand,  in  an  ashamed  way, 


TOTO'S  SACRIFICE  25 

across  her  face.  "I'm  a  fool  to  blubber  like  this. 
No,  I  never  had  a  relation  that  wasn't  with  a  show. 
I  haven't  any  business  to  be  wanting  anything  better 
for  my  little  kid.  Rosemary's  different.  You've  got 
people.  What's  the  plan,  Toto?"  She  spoke  with 
a  grim  control  in  her  voice. 

"I'm  going  to  give  Rosemary  up.  I'm  going  to 
see  my  brother  in  New  York.  I  shall  settle  some 
money — a  lot  of  money — in  trust  with  him  for  her. 
I'll  put  her  in  a  small  school  I've  been  looking  up 
down  near  Tarrytown  where  I  know  they'll  be  good 
to  her,  just  as  good  as — you — and  Mrs.  Houck. 
And  he  can  tell  anyone  who  has  to  know  that  she's 
his — dead  brother's  child.  He'll  do  it — I  know  he 
will,  for  I  will  make  it  worth  his  while." 

Queenie  stared  at  him.  "Send  Rosemary  away? 
Never  see  her  again?  My  God,  Toto — " 

"Hush,  she's  my  child!  I  can  do  it — for  her 
sake!" 

"And  won't  you  see  her  again  ?  You  haven't  seen 
her  for  two  years!" 

"N — no,  I — can't.  I  can't  bear  to.  I'll  write  you 
what  to  do  when  I  have  seen  my  brother.  Queenie, 
don't  look  at  me  like  that — as  though  I  were  a  mur- 
derer. If  I'm  killing  anything  it's  the  rest  of  me 
that  didn't  die  with  Kitty.  But  my  Rosemary  shall 
never  know  her  father  was  a  clown." 


26  APRILLY 

Queenie's  voice  grew  sullen.  "It's  in  her  blood, 
Toto!  She'll  come  back — " 

"I  tell  you  no,  Queenie !  As  the  twig  is  bent — • 
that's  the  way  my  little  girl  shall  grow.  She  will 
never  know  the  ring." 

"Your  baby— Kitty's  baby—" 

"Be  still,  will  you?  I  tell  you  it's  my  business! 
I'm  doing  it  because  she  is  Kitty's  child.  I'm  going  to 
see  my  brother  to-morrow.  Queenie,  swear  to  me 
now  that  you'll  keep  my  secret!" 

Queenie  was  frightened.  She  had  never 
seen  Toto  like  this.  She  shivered.  "I  won't  tell," 
she  answered. 

Had  she  nothing  to  say — she,  who  had  mothered 
the  motherless  babe  as  though  it  were  her  own  ? 

"I'll  write  you  from  down  there  what  to  do, 
Queenie.  Only — I  can't  see  her.  And  afterwards 
I'll  help  you  and  your  kid  as  though  she  were  mine — 
money,  I  mean,  and  education.  Don't  forget  how 
crazy  Kitty  was  over  that  baby  of  yours !" 

"She  has  red  hair  sort  of  like  Kitty's,  too,"  mum- 
bled Queenie,  trying  to  act  as  though  she  was  not 
torn  inwardly. 

Toto,  rising  suddenly,  stood  over  her;  small 
though  he  was  he  gave  the  impression  of  bigness 
and  strength. 

"God  bless  you,  Queenie,  for  being  such  a  good 

friend." 

*  *  *  *  * 


TOTO'S  SACRIFICE  27 

Two  days  later  the  letter  came  to  Queenie  from 
New  York.  It  came  just  as  she  was  starting  off  to 
spend  the  week-end  at  the  little  farm  where  her  own 
and  Toto's  baby— like  twin  flowers  in  a  garden — 
were  sheltered. 

«*  *  *  Qn  saturday  afternoon  a  woman 
from  the  school  will  stop  for  Rosemary.  She  will 
take  the  child  by  automobile  to  the  school.  You 
need  not  send  any  clothes  with  her.  Everything  will 
be  furnished  there.  I  found  my  brother  most  ame- 
nable to  my  suggestions.  From  now  on  I  am  only 
Toto  Conge,  the  Clown.  Rosemary's  father  was 
lost  at  sea  somewhere  between  Sumatra  and  Singa- 
pore. I've  kept  one  little  link.  My  brother,  or  any 
other  guardian  he  may  appoint  in  the  event  of  his 
death,  must  send,  twice  a  year,  a  report  to  my  lawyer 
in  San  Francisco  of  just  what  Rosemary  has  been 
doing,  her  health,  and  how  much  money  has  been 
spent  on  her.  We  will  read  those  reports  together, 
Queenie  *  *  *" 

It  was  a  two  hour  ride  to  the  village  near  which 
the  children  lived.  All  the  way  Queenie  sat  rigid, 
staring,  drawing  mental  pictures  of  Rosemary's 
future.  She  need  not  send  any  clothes — nice,  soft 
things  would  be  given  Rosemary ;  she  would  be  ten- 
ded and  taught  and  cherished;  she  would  ride  in  an 
automobile,  maybe  have  a  pony  and  later  a  smart 
horse  with  a  groom;  she'd  travel  everywhere  and 


a8  APRILLY 

she'd  meet  the  finest  and  richest  ladies  and  gentlemen 
in  the  land !  She'd  never  see  a  circus,  or,  if  she  did, 
she'd  sit  with  the  swells  and  laugh  at  Toto,  maybe — 

Kitty's  child!  Little  Kitty  had  been  a  teacher 
in  a  lonely  country  school.  When  Queenie  had  first 
met  her  Queenie  had  laughed  at  her  simplicity  and 
her  prudish  notions.  But  she  had  grown  to  love  her 
because  Kitty  had  seen  the  worth  of  Toto  and  to 
Queenie  Toto  was  the  finest  thing  God  had  ever 
made.  Then  Kitty  had  helped  her  through  those 
eventful  seven  months  with  the  "better-half,"  whom 
she  had  chosen  "out  of  the  ring" ;  Kitty  had  stayed 
with  her  in  the  lonely  hospital  when  her  baby  had 
come;  Kitty  had  named  the  baby  "April"  and  had 
been  the  baby's  godmother. 

So  Kitty's  child  would  never  know  the  ring;  her's 
— her  arms  twitched  suddenly  in  a  way  they  had  of 
doing  when  she  longed  to  hold  her  own  baby.  Poor 
Queenie,  the  daring  bareback  rider  was  all  mother, 
too!  Her  little  April  would  grow  a  few  years  older 
and  then — Queenie  recalled  that  she  had  been  exactly 
eight  years  old  when  she  had  gone  into  the  ring.  But 
Rosemary — "  a  report — twice  a  year.  *  *  *  We'll 
read  those  reports  together,  Queenie." 


CHAPTER  III 
POOR  QUEENIE 

La  Belle  Queen's  little  daughter  April  made  her 
one  appearance  in  the  ring  when  she  was  seven  and 
a  half  years  old — to  be  sure,  without  La  Belle 
Queen's  consent  or  knowledge!  Indeed,  the  poor 
mother  stormed  and  wept  in  a  way  that  astounded  the 
entire  company.  For  three  days  Claribel,  half-maid 
and  half -nurse  (and  a  party  to  the  conspiracy  which 
had  resulted  in  April's  triumphal  and  pretty  per- 
formance on  a  coal-black  pony),  had  not  dared  go 
near  her  mistress,  and  Marky,  the  head  groom  who 
had,  at  unobserved  moments,  trained  April,  kept  at 
a  prudent  distance. 

"And  she  was  just  natural  on  it,  the  pretty  little 
thing,"  wailed  Claribel  to  a  sympathetic  audience. 

"In  her  blood,  it  is,"  avowed  Romeyn,  the  jug- 
gler. "She's  goin'  to  be  a  buster,  she  is !  Queenie'd 
be  on  easy  street  when  the  kid's  a  little  older, 
if  she  only  knew  it.  Queer,  /  say!  Queenie's  a 
queen,  all  righto,  anyone  with  Bushman's  '11  say  that, 
but  wait — " 

Since  that  day  when,  directly  after  Toto's  Rose- 
mary  had  gone  away,  Queenie  had  brought  little 
April  back  with  her  from  the  shelter  of  Mrs.  Houck's 

29 


30  APRILLY 

country  home,  her  greatest  task  had  been  to  protect 
the  child  from  the  devotion  of  the  entire  circus  com- 
pany. No  princess  born  to  the  purple  had  more  de- 
voted subjects !  And  as  April  grew  older,  in  spite  of 
Queenie's  guarded  watchfulness,  each  endeavored  to 
develope  in  the  child  an  aptitude  for  his  or  her  art, 
each  dreamed  for  her  a  wonderful  triumph  in  the 
ring.  But :  "April's  never,  never  goin'  into  the  ring" 
had  always  been  the  mother's  unvarying  protest  when 
April's  admirerers  persistently  pressed  her.  Only 
Toto,  of  them  all,  had  understood,  Toto,  who  went 
about  out  of  the  ring  with  a  queer  dead  look  in  the 
eyes  and  a  hard  twist  on  the  lips  which  were  worth 
millions;  Toto,  always  remembering  that  moment 
when  Queenie  had  spoken  her  one  longing,  stood  be- 
tween Queenie  and  the  disgusted  company ;  only  Toto, 
of  them  all,  had  understood  why  Queenie  had  stub- 
bornly refused  when,  after  Claribel  and  Marky's  ill- 
timed  conspiracy,  the  manager  had  offered  to  train 
the  "kid,"  icierving  in  return  the  privilege  of  putting 
her  on  in  some  of  the  afternoon  performances. 

And  as  the  years  went  on  Toto  had  solved  the 
problem  of  April's  education,  too.  Warned  by  Clari- 
bel's  treachery  Queenie  had  engaged  a  governess  who 
traveled  with  the  company,  but  little  Miss  April  had 
hated  the  young  woman  and  had  rejoiced  loudly 
when  she  had  eloped  with  the  lion  trainer.  Queenie 
had  for  awhile,  considered  a  convent  school  but  such 


POOR  QUEENIE  31 

a  howl  of  protest  rose  from  the  indignant  company 
that  she  had  to  abandon  the  plan.  Then  it  was  that  Toto 
had  purchased  a  geography — a  pretty  one  with  col- 
ored pictures  and  maps — an  arithmetic  book,  a  French 
primer,  and  a  fat  volume  called  English  Gram- 
mer  and  declared  that  he  would  teach  April  himself. 
Though  April  hated  the  books  she  adored  her  teacher 
and  it  was  easy  to  "learn  things"  when  she  was  sit- 
ting on  Toto's  knee,  fingering  the  slender  watch 
chain  and  the  little  flat  locket  which  contained  a 
lady's  sweet  face.  And  when  the  lessons  went 
quickly  and  she  was  very  good,  Queenie  had  let  her 
play  with  Sanky,  the  trapeze  artist,  and  Marietta, 
the  dancer,  and  Philomena  Snow,  the  fat  lady  in  the 
side  show  who  told  wonderful  stories  and  laughed 
so  hard  at  times  that  her  great  shoulders  shook  like 
a  giant's!  And  Claribel,  restored  to  favor,  was  per- 
mitted to  take  her  for  long  walks  through  the  streets 
of  the  stange  cities  which  they  toured. 

Surely  April  Dangerfield  was  as  happy,  then,  as 
any  little  girl  who  lived  "out  of  the  ring."  And  as 
pretty,  too.  Queenie  knew  that — so  did  the  manager 
who  approached  Queenie  at  intervals  and  renewed 
his  offer  of  a  "little  training."  At  one  of  these  times 
he  had  hinted  in  an  unpleasant  way,  that  La  Belle 
Queen  was  "falling  off"  and  that  "she'd  do  well  to 
look  out  for  herself,"  which,  of  course,  only  made 
poor  Queenie  more  stubborn  than  ever ! 


32  APRILLY 

The  autumn  of  April's  fourteenth  year  Queenie 
caught  a  bad  cold  which  she  could  not  throw  off, 
though  she  appeared  in  the  ring  everyday.  She  kept 
telling  herself,  and  the  anxious  Claribel,  that  she'd 
be  better  the  next  day — or  the  next.  But  she  was  not. 
So,  inevitably,  the  time  came  when  her  performance 
was  so  bad  that  the  manager  told  her  bluntly  that  he 
could  not  renew  her  contract.  He  asked  again  for 
April  and  again  Queenie  refused. 

The  parting  had  come  in  Boston — stormy  and 
mutinous  on  the  part  of  the  company  (because  of 
the  loss  of  April),  Queenie  assuming  an  indifference 
she  did  not  feel.  Toto,  terribly  distressed,  had  no 
choice  but  to  go  on  with  the  show,  though  he  begged 
Queenie  to  let  him  know  if  at  any  time  she  needed 
his  help.  Queenie  promised,  defiantly  hinted  some- 
thing about  a  "chance  at  a  contract"  with  the  Manly 
outfit,  and  forced  a  smile  until  the  end.  April,  be- 
wildered, heartbroken,  declared  to  each  that  she  would 
never,  never  forget  them  and  that  when  she  was 
grown  up  she  would  join  them  again  if  it  was  only 
to  take  care  of  Marietta's  twinkling  toes ! 

For  a  few  weeks  Queenie  and  April  and  Claribel 
lived  in  a  big  hotel,  the  noise  and  bustle  of  which 
April  found  immediately  comforting.  She  did  not 
worry  because  there  was  no  contract.  Then  they 
moved  into  a  small  apartment;  Claribel  cooked  in  a 
tiny  cubbyhole  that  was  called  a  kitchenette  and 


POOR  QUEENIE  33 

April  went  to  a  public  school.  She  hated,  the  lessons 
and  the  teachers  who  were  not  one  bit  like  Toto  but 
she  liked  the  companionship  of  her  schoolmates: — 
something  she  had  never  known  before. 

But  again  they  moved  into  "rooms"  and  April 
dropped  her  school.  Claribel  left  them — a  parting 
marked  by  more  tears  than  had  been  shed  by  the  en- 
tire circus  company.  And  from  the  "rooms"  they 
moved  again  to  No.  80  Fleming  Street  and  April, 
with  a  distress  the  greater  because  of  her  helpless- 
ness, began  to  vaguely  sense  the  truth ;  Queenie  was 
very,  very  ill,  there  would  never  be  another  contract ; 
she  would  never  ride  again.  And  Toto  was  very  far 
away  in  the  West.  And  she  hated  Fleming  Street 
and  its  smells  and,  worse,  the  grim- faced  slatternly 
Mrs.  Slavosky  who  let  the  rooms  at  No.  80 
to  lodgers. 

"Queenie,  we  won't  have  to  stay  here  long?" 
April  would  beg  again  and  again.  And  poor  Queenie, 
who  had  not  the  courage  to  speak  the  truth  because 
telling  it  would  seem  like  the  end,  itself,  would 
answer:  "Of  course  we  won't!  I'll  get  a  contract 
one  o'  these  days.  When  Toto  comes  back  he'll  fix 
it  someway,  Toto  will." 

Queenie  had  a  distressed  way  of  looking  at  April 
which  added  to  the  child's  worry — as  though  she  was 
a  stranger  and  not  Queenie's  own  girl.  April 
wanted  to  ask  Queenie  so  many  things — why  she 


34  APRILLY 

could  not  work  now  and  take  care  of  Queenie — but 
she  could  not  ask  the  question  when  Queenie  had  that 
strange  look  in  her  eyes  and  would  not  talk.  And 
she  could  never  open  the  door  that  she  did  not  find 
Mrs.  Slavosky  on  the  other  side  as  though  she  had 
been  listening.  Mrs.  Slavosky  had  cruel,  gleaming 
eyes  like  Parro's  the  man  who  could  twist  himself 
into  knots  and  had  been  in  the  side  show  for  six 
weeks.  His  contortions  had  always  frightened  April 
and  she  had  always  shut  her  eyes  so  that  she  could 
not  see  his  eyes — 

One  evening,  when,  sitting  by  Queenie's  couch, 
she  had  asked  Queenie,  for  the  hundreth  time,  if 
they  could  not  go  somewhere  away  from  Fleming 
Street,  Queenie  had  answered  wildly :  "Where  d'you 
think  we  can  go?"  and  then  had  cried  over  the 
small  hands  which  she  had  caught  her  own. 

"When  Toto  comes — "  she  whispered  in  a  voice 
so  choky  that  poor  April's  heart  missed  a  beat  in 
alarm,  "tell  Toto — I've  written!  It's  in  my — writ- 
ing 'folio.  He'll  straighten — everything.  You  love 
Toto,  don't  you?" 

"Why,  yes,  Queenie.  I  wish  Toto  was  here!" 
April  bit  her  underlip  to  hide  it's  quiver. 

"And,  April,  there's  some  money  in  my  'folio, 
too.  I've  been  saving  it — for — just  in  case — "  she 
could  not  say  the  words. 

April  knelt  by  the  couch.  "Queenie,  don't  you  feel 


POOR  QUEENIE  35 

better  to-night  ?  Couldn't  you  try  to  walk  as  far  as 
the  little  park  down  the  street?  There  are  lots  of 
dandelions  there — great  big  yellow  fluffy  ones!  I 
saw  them.  It's  so  hot  here — and  smelly !" 

Two  bright  spots  of  color  burned  in  Queenie's 
cheeks.  She  sat  upright.  "Of  course  I  can!"  She 
cried  shrilly.  "You  get  my  big  cerise  hat,  April, 
I've  got  to  take  better  care  of  myself  and  get  out 
more.  People'll  think  La  Belle  Queen's  fallen  off!" 
She  laughed,  a  dreadful  laugh  that  made  April  shiver 
"A  lot  they  care — those  ones  who  used  to  applaud 
me!  They've  forgotten  Queenie!  But  I'll  show 
them!  I  won't!  I  can't — " 

"Don't,  don't,  please,"  begged  April,  frightened. 
"You  look  lots  better — really!  And  when  Toto 
comes — " 

A  strange  gleam  flashed  across  Queenie's  eyes. 
She  caught  April's  hand.  "Promise  me  you  won't 
let  him  despise  poor  Queenie.  But  of  course  he  won't ! 
He'll  understand.  He'll  forgive  me.  Bring  me  my 
hat,  child." 

That  night,  while  April  lay  on  her  cot  in  the 
corner  of  the  room,  trying  not  to  turn  and  turn  for 
fear  she  might  disturb  Queenie,  Queenie  died. 

In  that  first  moment  of  awful  panic  April  was 
not  sorry  to  find  Mrs.  Slavosky  outside  the  door. 
The  woman  immediately  took  charge  of  all  that  had 
to  be  done ;  it  was  not  the  first  time  that  a  tired  soul 


36  APRILLY 

had  slipped  away  in  the  down-and-outness  of  No.  80 ! 
And  poor  April  was  too  numb  with  grief  to  notice 
that  there  was  neither  kindness  nor  sympathy  in  the 
voice  which  brusquely  bade  her  "go  and  stay  in  the 
front  room." 

The  front  room  overlooked  the  narrow,  dirty 
street  and,  by  watching  the  people  passing  below, 
April  could  keep  from  wondering  what  was  happen- 
ing in  that  back  room. 

When  Mrs.  Slavosky  had  sharply  questioned 
April,  April  had  told  her  that  there  was  no  one  to 
"tell"  about  Queenie's  going,  except  Toto.  Mrs. 
Slavosky  had  helped  her  write  out  a  telegram  which 
she  had  carefully  addressed  just  as  she  had  addressed 
her  last  letter  to  Toto,  and  Mrs.  Slavosky  had  taken 
it  away  with  her  to  give  to  a  messenger  boy. 

Then  some  men,  with  heavy,  grating  steps,  had 
carried  poor  Queenie  away. 

When  April  went  back  into  the  little  dark  room 
she  had  shared  with  her  mother  she  found  Mrs.  Sla- 
vosky rummaging  through  the  almost  empty  bureau 
drawers.  In  a  pile  on  the- floor  lay  some  of  her 
mother's  and  her  own  better  garments.  Others, 
evidently  of  no  use  to  Mrs.  Slavosky,  had  been 
thrown  to  one  side.  For  the  first  time  it  flashed  over 
poor  April's  consciousness  that  these  pitifully  few 
possessions  were  all  she  had  in  the  world ! 

"Leave  my  mother's  things  alone!"  she  cried 
shrilly. 


POOR  QUEENIE  37 

Mrs.  Slavosky's  rat-eyes  gleamed  cruelly. 
"Don't  you  give  me  any  lip,  young  lady!  I'm  not 
not  running  no  institution  nor  poorhouse,  either. 
I  guess  these  things  won't  pay  the  rent  what's  due 
me.  You  keep  your  lip  to  yourself  or  you'll  be  in 
the  street— " 

"When  Toto  comes — "    April  began  hotly. 

With  her  loot  in  her  arms  Mrs.  Slavosky  walked 
to  the  door.  She  smiled,  though  the  rat-eyes  still 
gleamed.  "All  right,  when  your  Toto  comes,  what- 
ever he  is !  You  can  sleep  here  until  I  let  the  room 
and  then  you  can  move  down  off  the  woodshed.  And 
you  come  down  pretty  quick  to  the  kitchen,  too.  I 
guess  you  can  work  for  your  keep!" 

Protruding  from  under  the  woman's  arm  April 
saw  a  corner  of  the  old  plush  portfolio. 

"That's  mine!  You  can't  take  that!"  she  im- 
plored, tears  choking  her  voice. 

"Say,  now,  young  lady,  I'm  not  stealing  anything 
that  isn't  my  due !  There's  nothing  in  this  old  thing 
but  a  lot  of  letters  that  isn't  worth  the  burning  and 
what  little  money's  in  it — well,  say,  didn't  you  want 
your  mother  buried  proper  like  other  people  and  don't 
you  think  that  costs  money?  No  one's  doing  it  for 
love — not  for  the  likes  of  her !" 

April  drew  back,  stunned,  silenced.  If  it  had 
gone  for  that — to  bury  poor  Queenie  like  other  people 


38  APRILLY 

in  a  pretty,  peaceful,  flower-strewn  cemetery,  well, 
she  could  say  nothing  more ! 

"And  you  be  down  in  the  kitchen  by  four  o'clock 
if  you  want  any  dinner." 

Poor  little  terrified  April !  She  lost  faith,  then, 
even  in  Toto's  coming.  She  sat  crouched  by  her 
door  listening  for  a  ring  at  the  front  door  that  might 
mean  a  telegram  from  him.  Then,  when,  some- 
where, a  clock  struck  three,  she  dragged  herself  down 
the  steep,  dirty  stairs  toward  the  kitchen.  The  kit- 
chen door  was  ajar.  She  leaned  against  the  wall  out- 
side it — she  could  not  make  herself  go  in.  Her  step 
had  been  so  light  that  Mrs.  Slavosky,  working  within, 
had  not  heard  her. 

"Send  the  girl  to  an  orphan  asylum?  Well,  say, 
Sophy  Slavosky  isn't  no  fool !  I  told  that  there  Paul 
Pry  of  a  doctor  that  the  girl  was  my  brother's  child — 
that  that  Queenie  woman  was  his  wife.  With  help 
as  scarce  as  'tis  I  can  use  this  girl.  She  can  scrub  as 
well  as  I  can!  And  if  I  don't  pay  her  nothing  she 
can't  get  away,  can  she?" 

April  clapped  her  hands  over  her  lips  to  stifle 
the  cry  that  swelled  in  her  throat.  In  a  wild  panic 
she  fled  noiselessly  back  up  the  dark  stairway  to  her 
room.  One  thought  only  was  in  her  mind — to  es- 
cape as  quickly  as  possible  from  80  Fleming  Street 
and  the  terrors  which  it  held. 

"Her  brother's  child!    Scrub!  Shut  in— here— 


POOR  QUEENIE  39 

like  a  prisoner!"  Anger  cleared  the  daze  of  grief 
and  fire  in  the  child's  spirit. 

She  threw  her  small  possessions — and  what  Mrs. 
Slavosky  had  left  of  Queenie's — into  a  big,  worn, 
leather  bag.  Then  she  put  Queenie's  broad-brim- 
med cerise  hat  on  her  head  and  Queenie's  last  year's 
summer  coat  over  her  soiled  muslin  dress.  She 
paused  in  her  flight  long  enough  to  peep  into  the 
mirror.  The  young  lady  she  saw  reflected  there 
seemed  very  grown-up — quite  able  to  take  care  of 
herself  when  once  away  from  the  shadow  of  No.  80 
Fleming  Street. 

Gripping  the  bulging  bag  she  tiptoed  down  the 
stairway,  through  the  front  door  into  the  street. 
She  almost  ran  its  dirty  length  to  the  corner  where 
it  let  into  one  of  the  city's  broader,  cleaner  thorough- 
fares. Panting,  she  paused.  The  sun  was  shining 
brightly  overhead,  a  bell  on  a  passing  vendor's  wagon 
clanged  with  a  cheerful  resonance;  here  the  air  was 
sweeter,  there  was  space  enough  to  see  the  blue  of 
the  sky — the  whole  world  was  brighter!  She  was 
away  from  that  horrible  menace — 

But  not  so  very  far!  She  went  on  with  quick 
steps,  glad  of  the  hurrying  crowds  which  concealed 
her.  In  the  throng  she  spied  a  tall  young  man,  car- 
rying a  suitcase.  A  bare- footed  urchin  was  running 
along  by  the  man's  side,  begging  to  carry  the  bag. 
The  man  was  refusing  his  proffered  assistance  but 


40  APRILLY 

doing  so  with  a  broad,  friendly  smile.  The  man 
had  dropped  a  coin  in  the  boy's  dirty  hand,  too. 

"He's  nice,"  thought  April.  "That  boy's  too 
small  to  carry  his  bag  and  he  knew  it !  But  he  gave 
him  some  money !"  For  the  first  time  April  thought 
of  money.  Then  she  remembered  that  among  the 
contents  of  the  satchel  was  Queenie's  gold  and  rose 
beaded  bag.  Quite  indifferent  to  the  unusualness 
of  the  act  she  stopped  at  the  curbing,  opened  the 
satchel  and  took  from  it  the  little  purse.  It  con- 
tained two  dollars  and  eighty  cents. 

That  seemed  a  fortune  to  the  girl — that,  with 
the  reassuring  sense  of  escape  from  the  darkness 
and  threat  of  No.  80  Fleming  Street! 

So  after  the  nice- faced  man  fled  April,  away 
from  Mrs.  Slavosky  and  her  scheming,  away  from 
the  smells  and  dirt  of  Fleming  Street — and  away 
from  the  letter  addressed  to  Queenie  in  Toto's  small, 
careful  handwriting,  which  the  postman  at  that 
moment  was  leaving  at  No.  80. 


APRIL   FOLLOWED  MISS  MANNY'S  UNFRIENDLY    BACK   UP   THE   PATH   TO   THE  PORCH 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  HIRED  GIRL 

Few  milestones  marked  any  changes  in  the  quiet 
course  of  Deborah  Manny's  life — perhaps  only  three. 
One  was  that  eighteenth  birthday  when  word  had 
come  that  the  Sally  Ann  had  gone  down  to  sea  with 
all  hands  and  she  knew  that  the  lover  with  whom  she 
had  plighted  troth  would  never  come  again  into  the 
little  harbor  behind  the  point ;  another  when  Cousin 
Jake  Manny  had  died  and  had  left  her  his  "money," 
as  much  as  a  thousand  dollars  Blossom  folk  had  cal- 
culated it ;  the  third  had  been  that  October  day  when 
a  fierce  gale  had  blown  down  the  sweet  cherry  tree 
at  the  back  door  of  her  home,  a  tree  planted  by  her 
mother's  own  hands.  Only  those  who  live  quite 
by  themselves  know  what  companionship  there  can 
be  in  a  tree  and  can  measure  the  loss  that  day  brought 
to  Miss  Deborah. 

Now  another  change  threatened.  Deborah  Manny, 
who  had  lived  alone  since  she  was  twenty-four, 
was  going  to  hire  a  "girl."  Over  this  news  the  en- 
tire village  clacked,  justifiably,  because  the  entire 
village,  by  persistent  persuasion,  had  brought  it 
about.  From  the  oldest  villager  to  the  youngest,  each 
felt  a  personal  responsibility  for  Deborah  Manny, 


42  APRILLY 

a  responsibility  not  always  tempered  with  affection. 

"Queer  as  all  get-up  but  a  body  couldn't  let 
Cap'n  Manny's  girl  die  there  all  by  herself!" 

(Deborah,  at  sixty-five,  was  far  from  dying!) 

"A  nice,  spry  girl  livin'  along  with  Debory'll  be 
company  and  keep  her  from  getting  the  melancholies 
like  old  Widow  Snow.  Do  the  work,  too.  That  old 
house  with  all  its  rooms  shut  up  must  be  a  sight  to 
do.  Like  as  not  she  could  get  Mamie  Cooper  of  the 
Lighthouse  road  Coopers  or  Sally  Cox.  She's  six- 
teen now  and  a  pretty  likely  girl." 

But  Miss  Deborah,  persuaded  to  hire  the  "girl," 
had  a  mind  of  her  own  as  to  whom  she  would  employ. 

"I'll  not  have  Mamie  Cooper  or  Sally  Cox  or  Jenny 
Anybody — "  she  snorted,  " — snooping  about  my 
business!  I'll  get  a  girl  up  from  Boston  way  that 
knows  how  to  keep  her  mouth  shut  and  her 
eyes  open." 

Thereupon  Miss  Deborah  had  sent  to  a  Boston 
newspaper  a  very  unusual  advertisement.  She  had 
spent  a  week  in  its  composition ;  had  counseled,  too, 
with  Miss  Reed,  the  postmaster's  daughter,  who  had 
gone  to  school  in  Portland.  When  completed  it  had 
read:  "Wanted:  a  young  woman  with  quiet  ways 
who  can  cook  and  wash  dishes  without  breaking  them 
all  and  minds  her  own  business  and  lives  in  fear  of 
the  Lord." 

Miss    Reed    had    protested    mildly    against    its 


THE  HIRED  GIRL  43 

phrasing.  It  did  not  sound  quite  like  the  other  adver- 
tisements she  had  read;  someone  might  take  it  as  a 
joke  and  answer  and  cause  Deborah  great  annoyance. 

But  Deborah  held  staunchly  to  her  own  way — in 
this  she  was  like  her  father,  the  old  Cap'n. 

"I'll  say  what's  so.  I  know  what  these  hired  girls 
aie  like.  And  if  I  can  get  one  that  has  a  wholesome 
fear  of  the  Almighty  and  sets  church  above  the 
theatre-hole  down  by  the  postoffice  I'll  have  one  that 
won't  be  gallivantin'  'round  when  7  think  she's  put !" 

The  advertisement  had  been  sent  and  had  been 
printed  exactly  as  Miss  Deborah  had  written  it. 
Jeremy  Waite,  who  every  morning  peddled  fish  along 
the  shore  and  every  afternoon  was  as  idle  as  the 
"lilies"  volunteered  to  meet  the  afternoon  train  each 
day  in  the  event  that  the  "hired  girl"  arrived 
unheralded.  Then  all — Blossom  and  Jeremy — 
waited,  breathlessly. 

Miss  Deborah  reveled  secretly  in  the  prominence 
she  knew  she  was  holding  in  the  Blossom  eye.  That 
was  why,  on  an  afternoon  a  week  after  the  advertise- 
ment had  appeared,  she  stepped  to  her  porch, 
smoothed  out  her  apron,  scanned  the  road  over  which 
arrivals  on  the  Boston  train  must  come  and  muttered 
with  disgust  rather  than  eagerness :  "Like  as  not  when 
she  could' ve  come  any  day  she'll  come  to-day  'long 
with  that  new  Tiscopal  minister!" 

The  hotel  "bus"  rattled  past,  half-hidden  in  a  cloud 


44  APRILLY 

of  dust.  A  big  motor-car  honked.  "The  Merediths 
— as  I  live,"  Deborah  exclaimed,  quickly,  with  a 
little  thrill.  All  Blossom  enjoyed  having  the  old  house 
on  Forest  Hill  open.  Then  a  double-seated  surrey 
came  sedately  down  the  road,  at  a  pace  suited  to  the 
arrival  of  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel.  Deborah,  mo- 
mentarily forgetting  her  own  affairs,  leaned  forward 
with  a  quick  intake  of  breath.  A  tall  stranger  sat  on 
the  back  seat  beside  Silas  Perkins.  She  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  straight  nose  and  a  square  jaw. 

"Why,  he  isn't  much  more'n  a  boy,"  she  declared 
aloud,  wondering  if  Silas  Perkins  had  not,  perhaps, 
picked  up  the  wrong  man ! 

Then — "Sure  as  I'm  standin'  here!  Didn't  I  say 
so?" — Jeremy  Waite,  with  a  girl  on  the  seat  beside 
him,  a  girl  with  a  broad-brimmed  cerise  hat  and  a 
faded  green  coat. 

"I  got  her  this  time,  Debory,"  Jeremy  called 
lustily. 

Had  not  necessity  compelled  action  Miss  Deborah 
might  have  stood  rooted  to  the  porch  step  forever. 
With  mechanical  steps  she  walked  down  the  little 
path  to  the  road,  her  eyes  seeing  only  a  blaze  of  vivid 
red  and  faded  green. 

"Brung  her  bag*n  everything,  so  I  guess  likely 
she'll  stay  longer'n  over  night  like  Mis'  Thomas'  new 
help!  Did  y'see  the  new  minister,  Miss  Debory? 
And  the  Meredith  young  folks  come,  too.  Things'll 


THE  HIRED  GIRL  45 

hum  now  in  Blossom !"  A  tremble  in  Jeremy's  voice 
betrayed  his  deep  excitement.  He  cast  a  side-long 
glance  at  his  passenger  as  she  climbed  down  over  the 
wheel,  then  gave  a  meaning  nod  to  Miss  Deborah. 
"Guess  I'd  better  go  down  to  Casper's  and  hear  the 
news  and  let  you  talk  to  missy,  here." 

Ordinarily  Miss  Deborah,  like  all  Blossom,  felt 
only  a  scornful  tolerance  for  old  Jeremy,  but  at  this 
moment  she  could  have  implored  him  not  to  leave  her 
alone  with  this  strange  creature.  All  the  dignified 
phrases  which  over  her  work  she  had  rehearsed  in 
preparation  for  this  moment  now  failed  her  utterly. 

"I'm  sure  I'm  much  obliged,  Jeremy,"  her  lips 
framed  quite  of  their  own  accord. 

Then,  curtly,  to  the  girl :  "Come  in." 

April,  quivering  with  fright  and  dismay,  followed 
Miss  Manny's  unfriendly  back  up  the  path  to 
the  porch. 

"Sit  down  here  and  take  off  that  ridiculous  hat 
— so's  a  body  can  see  your  face !" 

April  meekly  obeyed,  dropping  the  offending  hat 
behind  her.  Miss  Manny  saw  a  very  pale  face  with 
dark  frightened  eyes  framed  in  disheveled  red  hair. 

"Why  you're  a — you're  not  a  girl !" 

"Oh,  I  am !  I  am !"  cried  April.  How  could  this 
awful  woman  think  she  was  anything  else? 

"I  mean  you  ain't  a  girl  like  a — hired  girl !  What 
can  you  do  ?"  retorted  Miss  Deborah  crossly.  She  felt 


46  APRILLY 

that,  just  as  Miss  Reed  had  feared,  some  hoax  was 
being  played  upon  her — perhaps  Jeremy  was  now 
laughing  uproariously,  down  at  Casper's! 

"I— I—"  Poor  April's  thoughts  jumbled.  "I— 
can  turn  a — a — somersault  and  — " 

"What?" 

"I  mean — turn  a  somersault  and  land  on  my  toes 
while  the  horse  is  running.  Marky  taught  me.  And 
— and  dance — " 

Miss  Deborah  edged  hurriedly  away. 

"Who  are  you  ?"  she  demanded  in  an  awful  tone. 

"I  am  April  Dangerfield,  La  Belle  Queen's  daugh- 
ter !"  April's  bobbed  head  tossed  high, 

"La^-Belle—  Queen!"  Miss  Deborah  spoke  the 
words  quickly,  crisply  as  though  they  might  scorch 
her  tongue. 

"Yes,  she  was  with  Bushman  Bros,  for  seventeen 
years.  She  was  the  most  famous  bareback  rider — " 

"Circus!"  screamed  Miss  Deborah,  and  she  put 
three  feet  between  herself  and  April. 

April  was  staring  in  frank  astonishment. 

"Haven't  you  ever  heard  of  my  mother?  But — 
she's  dead.  I—" 

For  a  moment  anger  held  Deborah  Manny  speech- 
less. Then:  "I  don't  know  who's  crazy,  Jeremy 
Waite  or  me,  or  wherever  on  earth  he  picked  you  up ! 
/  advertised  for  a  girl  with  nice  ways  who  could  cook 
and  not  turn  somersaults  on  horses'  backs  and  had  a 


THE  HIRED  GIRL  47 

fear  of  the  Lord  and  didn't  wear  red  hats 
and  feathers !" 

"I  didn't  answer  your  advertisement,"  implored 
April.  "I  just  came !  I — I  had  to  go  somewhere,  so  I 
came  here  'cause  I  had  just  money  enough  to  buy  a 
ticket  like  that  nice  man  had.  I  followed  him, 
you  see." 

"Followed  him !  Followed  a  man !"  Plainly  Miss 
Deborah  had  never  been  so  horrified  in  her  life! 

"Yes.  You  see  I  ran  away  from  that  place — 
where  mother  died.  They  were  going  to  shut  me  up. 
Oh,  it  was  dreadful — "  Then  April  realized  that  there 
was  no  sympathy  in  the  face  confronting  her.  Her 
pride  came  to  her  rescue.  Defiance  wakened  in 
her  soul. 

"That  old  man  said  you  were  looking  for  a — 
for  someone  to  help  you.  I  will  work — I  will 
do  anything." 

"You'll  go  back  where  you  came  from,"  snapped 
Miss  Deborah.  Then,  when  she  saw  the  real  terror  in 
April's  eyes,  she  added :  "Though  you  can't  go  until 
the  train  goes,  and  that  don't  go  until  morning,  so 
you  can  give  me  a  hand  with  supper  and  sleep 
here  to-night." 

April  drew  a  long  quivering  breath.  The  color 
rushed  back  into  her  face,  softening  its  strain.  She 
looked  more  like  the  child  she  was. 

"Oh,  I'll  help,  indeed  I  will!    I  can  do  lots  of 


48  APRILLY 

things.  I  don't  know  what  your  name  is — all  of  it 
The  funny  old  man  said  it  in  such  a  queer  way.  It 
isn't  like  he  said  it,  is  it?  I  always  like  to  think  of 
people's  names  and  have  them  sound  just  like  the 
people,  don't  you?  Don't  you  think  Queenie — " 

"My  name's  Deborah  Steele  Manny,  but  I  don't 
know  as  it  matters  what  you  or  Jeremy  Waite 
calls  me !" 

"Deborah!  What  an  ugly,  fat  sounding  name," 
April  cried."  "And  just  Deb  is  too — too — oh,  not 
respectful.  Of  course  I  shall  call  you  Miss  Manny 
until  I  can  think — " 

"Until  the  nine-thirty  train  back  to  Boston  to- 
morrow morning." 

April  ignored  the  determination  in  Miss  Deborah's 
voice.  "To-morrow  morning"  seemed  a  long  time 
away.  With  resolute  cheerfulness  she  followed  Miss 
Manny  through  the  door  into  the  house. 

"Can't  we  get  supper  now  ?  I'm  dreadful  hungry ! 
Do  you  live  all  alone  ?  Mr.  Jeremy  said  it  was  'too 
bad/  This  is  a  darling  house,  isn't  it?  It's  like  a 
story-book  house,  all  tumbly  and  mysterious.  It 
smells  so  good,  too !  Oh,  what  a  darling  boat !  Was 
that — one  of  your  toys  ?" 

Miss  Deborah  sniffed.  "That"  was  the  treasured 
model  of  Cap'n  Manny's  first  schooner.  Toy ! 

April  was  exclaiming  over  other  wonders  of  the 
room.  Presently,  in  the  window,  she  came  upon  Miss 
Deborah's  "work." 


THE  HIRED  GIRL  49 

"Oh,  what  queer  flowers!  Are  they  flowers? 
They're  so — they  look  like  flowers  with  the  hearts 
taken  out." 

"They're  waxed,"  Miss  Manny  answered  proudly. 
"Those  are  off  old  Mis'  Tyler's  grave.  Mary  Tyler 
picked  out  the  pink  roses  and  the  white  roses  and  I'm 
goin'  to  fix  them  in  a  nice  wreath — " 

April  had  drawn  away  with  a  shivering  gesture. 
"What — what  will  she  do  with  them?" 

"What  will  she  do  with  them  ?  Why,  hang  them 
in  her  parlor,  I  suppose.  Mis'  Tubbs  had  me  make  the 
ones  off'n  her  husband's  grave  into  a  bunch  hanging 
like  over  a  cross.  They  were  beautiful  if  I  do  say  so. 
I've  sent  some  pieces  to  Boston.  I  guess  I'm  the  only 
one  in  these  parts  who  knows  how  to  do  it,  and  I  get 
orders  real  often.  That's  why  I  had  to  hire  for  help 
'round  the  house." 

April  reached  out  very  slowly  and  touched  one  of 
the  waxen  petals.  A  rush  of  tears  suddenly  blinded 
her  eyes.  She  was  wondering  if  there  had  been  any 
flowers  on  Queenie's  grave!  But,  then,  she  would 
never  have  taken  any  of  the  blossoms  away — 

"Take  those  blue  and  white  dishes  and  see  if  you 
can  set  the  table  without  breaking  any.  All  the  wax 
flowers  in  the  world  couldn't  buy  one  of  them  cups ! 
One  of  the  summer  boarders  down  at  the  cape  offered 
me  a  hundred  dollars  for  the  set  just  as  'twas.  Be 
spry.  I'll  beat  up  some  biscuits." 


So  APRILLY 

Magically  April's  heart  lightened.  With  a  child's 
instinct  she  knew  that  Miss  Deborah  was  not  nearly 
as  cross  as  she  wished  to  appear.  Her  blue  and  white 
dishes  were  beautiful  and  April  loved  beautiful  things. 
She  was  hungry,  too,  and  the  pleasant  odors  from  the 
kitchen  were  most  satisfying.  To-morrow  seemed 
a  long  time  off,  and  the  quiet  old  house  safely  remote 
from  the  terrors  of  Fleming  Street. 

April  knew  more,  it  appeared,  about  cooking  than 
Miss  Manny  had  expected.  Her  knowledge  had  been 
gained  chiefly  from  chafing-dish  experience.  "Toto 
liked  this—"  or  "Toto  liked  that!"  A  Toto  figured 
often  in  April's  flow  of  chatter.  Though  Miss 
Deborah's  lips  tightened  perceptibly  each  time,  she 
offered  no  rebuke.  The  nine-thirty  train  on  the  mor- 
row would  settle  everything ! 

April  consumed  biscuits  and  jam  with  a  childish 
zeal.  She  drank,  tea,  too,  with  the  air  of  one  who 
knew  every  blend.  "It's  good  rich  milk  you  ought  to 
have  to  put  some  flesh  on  your  bones,"  Miss  Deborah 
had  remarked.  "If  you  was  going  to  stay — "  she  had 
added  hastily.  There  was  cold  rhubarb  pie  over 
which  April  gleefully  smacked  her  lips. 

"Oh,  let  me  wash  them,  please,  "  April  implored, 
gathering  a  pile  of  dishes  with  such  haste  that  Miss 
Manny  shuddered.  "I  love  soap  suds  when  they  look 
like  whipped  cream !  And  I  won't  break  a  single  dish 
— they're  so  pretty  I  love  to  touch  them.  Please!" 


THE  HIRED  GIRL  51 

And  bef  oreMiss  Deborah  knew  it  she  had  been  pushed 
from  the  sink  and  April  was  vigorously  pumping 
water  into  the  steaming  dishpan. 

But  if  there  threatened  the  slightest  softening 
of  Deborah  Manny's  will  she  had  only  to  hark  back 
to  April's  word  of  the  "circus."  Miss  Manny's  stern, 
narrow  bringing  up  set  such  people  apart  as  being 
little  worse  than  the  devil  himself.  Let  one  word  of 
all  this  reach  the  ears  of  Blossom,  what  would  they 
say?  What  would  they  think?  How  might  not  she, 
Deborah  Manny,  who  hadn't  missed  but  two  days  in 
her  life  in  regular  attendance  at  the  First  Baptist 
Church  at  the  four  corners,  be  branded  if  she  "cow- 
towed"  with  even  the  child  of  a  bareback  rider? 

The  dishes  done  Miss  Manny,  with  determined 
unfriendliness,  escorted  April  and  her  baggage  to  the 
little  room  over  the  kitchen  which  she  had  cleaned 
and  aired  and  made  ready  for  the  "hired  girl." 
Though  the  sky  was  still  pink  with  a  twilight  glow,  to 
April,  after  the  sleepless  nights  at  No.  80  Fleming 
Street,  and  the  strange  happenings  of  the  day,  the 
little  four-posted  bed  in  the  corner  looked 
very  inviting. 

"You  can  turn  back  that  spread  careful  'slong  as 
you  ain't  going  to  use  it  more'n  the  one  night,"  was 
Miss  Deborah's  good-night.  Then  she  went  out  and 
closed  the  door  quickly  behind  her. 

Miss  Deborah  herself  slept  in  the  gable  bedroom. 


52  APRILLY 

It  had  been  hers  since  was  a  child.  From  its  window 
she  had  watched  for  the  coming  of  her  young  lover, 
years  ago,  before  the  Sally  Ann  had  gone  down.  The 
other  rooms  her  mother's,  her  sister's,  the  spare  room, 
were  always  closed  now  except  at  the  two  seasons 
when  they  were  cleaned  and  aired. 

Strangely  enough  the  presence  of  the  child  in  the 
house  changed  its  atmosphere.  Miss  Deborah  felt 
(in  spite  of  herself)  a  pleasing  sense  of  companion- 
ship ;  just  knowing  that  there  was  someone  else  near 
helped  her  go  off  to  sleep  more  quickly.  That  was 
what  old  Dr.  Tom  and  Mrs.  Moffett  had  said. 

But  in  the  small  hours  of  the  night  a  rush  of  steps 
wakened  her.  Before  she  could  exclaim  two  arms 
went  tightly  about  her  neck. 

"Don't  let  them!  Don't  let  them !"  April's  voice 
was  shrill  with  terror. 

"Land  a'  sakes !  Wake  up!"  Miss  Manny  caught 
the  child  and  shook  her.  "You're  in  a  nightmare. 
Scaring  a  body  to — " 

Slowly  April  relaxed  the  clinging  clasp  of  her 
arms.  Her  eyes,  burning  in  the  darkness,  lost  their 
terror.  A  shiver  ran  from  her  head  to  her  feet.  Ex- 
hausted, she  threw  herself  across  Miss  Deborah's 
piecework  quilt  and  sobbed  convulsively. 

"TJiey  were  stealing — my  mother.  They  thought 
she  was — dead  and — she  wasn't — 'cause  she  spoke  to 
me !  And  I  wanted  Kelp.  But — I — I — wish  it  wasn't 


THE  HIRED  GIRL  53 

— a  dream — 'cause  then — I'd  have  her!  I  want  her!  I 
want  Toto !    I  want — " 

So  childishly  hopeless  and  despairing  was  the  wail- 
ing voice,  so  small  seemed  the  slim  little  figure  in  its 
scant  robe,  that  Deborah's  heart,  maternal  without 
maternity,  stirred.  She  drew  the  trembling  child  to 
her.  "There — there — "she  crooned,  because  she  knew 
nothing  more  to  say.  "You're  all  upset  by  bad  dreams. 
Just  you  crawl  in  here  next  to  the  wall  along  side  o' 
me  and  you'll  go  to  sleep  in  no  time !  You're  as  cold 
as  ice.  Cover  up — there  now.  You  poor  little  thing." 


CHAPTER  V 
DEBORAH  DECIDES 

"Yes,  she's  goin'  to  stay,  Jeremy !  I'll  tell  you  now 
'slong  as  I  expect  that's  why  you've  come  round  with 
your  fish  'n  hour  earlier  than  usual.  Mebbe  I'm 
crazy  what  with  makin'  up  my  mind  to  take  steps  I 
never  thought  o'  treadin'  before  and  what  with  lyin* 
awake  staring  at  that  'God  Bless  Our  Home'  my 
mother  made  when  she  was  a  girl  all  night  'til  I 
could' ve  counted  the  stitches.  And  mebbe  I'm  crazier 
to  tell  you  I  think  I'm  crazy — "  Miss  Deborah  snap- 
ped her  lips  together  tightly,  concluding,  suddenly, 
that  she  had  said  quite  enough  to  Jeremy. 

On  the  morning  following  April's  arrival  Jeremy 
had  come  to  Miss  Deborah's  door  at  a  very  early  hour. 
He  leaned  on  her  gate  in  a  stay-awhile  manner,  twist- 
ing a  long  piece  of  grass  in  his  mouth  and  shifting  his 
eyes  from  time  to  time  in  the  direction  of  Miss 
Deborah's  open  door. 

"Hope  she'll  stay,"  he  drawled.  "Most  o'  them 
doesn't.  Didn't  'pear  to  me  she  looked  much  like  no 
hired  gals  7  ever  seen." 

In  spite  of  a  heroic  effort  at  calmness  Miss 
Deborah's  voice  trembled  slightly. 

"Jeremy,  's  long  as  you're  going  to  peddle  my 

54 


DEBORAH  DECIDES  55 

business  'long  with  your  fish  you  might  as  well  have 
straight  goods  so  to  speak — all  wool  and  a  yard  wide. 
I've  been  thinking  I  don't  know  as  I  need  a  hired  girl. 
I'm  strong  and  there  ain't  much  to  do  round  the  house 
'cept  at  cleaning  times,  and  I  can  get  Sarah  Swan 
in  then  like  I've  always  done.  I'm  going  to  keep  this 
girl  for— comp'ny." 

The  straw  fell  from  Jeremy's  mouth. 

"Comp'ny?" 

"Yes,  comp'ny.  I  guess  you  heard  me  first  time. 
Like  old  Cap'n  Merry  got  that  dog  last  spring.  It  gets 
sort  of  lonesome  now  I'm  growin'  old  and  when  I  put- 
ter 'round  my  work  she  can  be  right  handy  and 
soci'ble.  I'm  not  saying  how  long  I'll  keep  her. 
I'm  going  to  stick  by  my  first  declaration  to  have  a 
girl  that'll  respect  the  ways  of  the  Lord  arid  won't 
break  my  blue  and  white  set." 

Jeremy  scratched  his  head  thoughtfully.  "She 
looked  like  a  gal  got  up  like  one  o'  them  circus  posters 
you  see  down  Boston  way." 

Deborah  shivered  and  paled  with  alarm. 

"Never  you  mind,  Jeremy,  how  she  was  got  up! 
Those  were  borrowed  clothes,  I  guess.  She  ain't 
much  more'n  a  child,  and  she's  seen  a  heap  of  trouble, 
and  no  one  can  say  I  ever  turned  one  of  God's  crea- 
tures from  my  door  even's  much  as  a  cat.  Now  just 
weigh  out  my  fish  and  go  'long,  and  when  folks  talk 
you  just  tell  them  I  can  want  comp'ny  same  as  Joe 


56  APRILLY 

Merry,  and  /  ain't  going  to  waste  victuals  on  a  dog!" 

Jeremy  raised  himself  slowly  from  his  lounging 
position  against  the  gate  post.  He  caught  the  tone 
of  dismissal  in  Miss  Deborah's  voice. 

"Hope  ye  ain't  thinkin'  any  meddlin,'  meant, 
Debory.  Courst  ye've  the  right  to  comp'ny  same  as 
Joe,  and  folks'll  be  glad  ye  have  it.  Hope  the  gal 
won't  stir  things  up  this  end  o'  town  like  Joe's  dog  has 
— fightin'  ev'ry  thing  on  four  legs  and  some  on  two ! 
Though  'tain't  likely  she  will.  What's  her  name, 
Debory,  if  ye  don't  mind  tellin  ?" 

"Her  name — "  Deborah  spoke  slowly — she  did 
mind,  "—is— Aprilly." 

"A-pril-ly?" 

"I  said  it,  didn't  I  ?  It's  a  fancier  name  than  I  set 
much  by  but  all  the  world  don't  get  christened 
in  Blossom." 

"A-pril-ly!"  Jeremy  whistled.  "Don'  know  as  I 
ever  heard  of  a  gal  named  Aprilly.  Kind  of  wildy  like, 
don't  seem  to  go  with  brooms  and  kettles  and  pans — " 

"Any  more'n  she  does,  Jeremy.  A  hired  girl's  one 
thing,  but  Aprilly' s  another !" 

"That's  right — she's  comp'ny.  And  it  ain't  likely 
you'll  get  tired,  Debory,  with  an  Aprilly  'round  like 
you  would  a  Jane  or — or^-a — " 

"Jeremy,"  added  Deborah,  tartly,  taking  her 
bundle  of  fish. 

"Mebbe  I'd  better  carry  it  up  fer  ye,  Debory?" 


DEBORAH  DECIDES  57 

Deborah  clicked  her  gate  shut  defiantly. 

"Since  when  can't  I  carry  my  own  fish,  Jeremy? 
I  see  Widow  Sims  sittin'  on  her  step  waiting  for  you, 
and  its  your  busy  day  what  with  the  new  minister 
and  the  Meredith's  comin' !  Don't  you  forget  'bout 
the  straight  goods.  Mebbe  your  tongue  does  wag 
at  both  ends,  Jeremy,  that's  not  your  fault,  it's  the 
way  your  tongue's  made,  but  you  can  make  it 
wag  straight!" 

For  some  moments  Deborah  Manny  stood  at  her 
gate  watching  the  fish  man's  departing  figure.  A 
strange  emotion  shook  her. 

"You're  a  fool,  Debory  Manny — a  fool!  You've 
said  you'd  keep  her  right  when  you  didn't  know 
whether  you  would  or  wouldn't !  You  can't  eat  your 
words  when  you've  given  them  to  Jeremy  Waite. 
You're  doin'  something  that  if  this  town  knew — " 
She  drew  her  breath  sharply.  "If  Jeremy'd  guessed 
it'd  been  all  over  Blossom  by  noon  that  you  was  keep- 
ing a  girl  from  the  circus." 

She  laughed  suddenly,  aloud,  with  one  hand  at 
her  heart  as  though  to  quiet  its  sudden  beating.  Her 
world  in  the  last  twelve  hours  had  turned  upside 
down ;  she  had  done  things  she  had  never  done  before 
in  her  life;  she  had  felt  things — a  life-long  prejudice 
yielding  momentarily  before  a  curious,  foolish  sense 
of  mothering,  all  because  a  quivery  little  creature,  sob- 
bing in  fitful  sleep  and  clinging  with  hot  fingers,  had 


58  APRILLY 

snuggled  close  to  her.  And  after  a  sleepless  night  she, 
Deborah  Manny,  had  crept  from  bed,  dressed  noise- 
lessly so  as  not  to  disturb  the  "girl,"  and  had  stolen 
down  stairs  in  her  stocking  feet  to  prepare  the  break- 
fast while  the  "girl"  slept  on,  upstairs. 

The  morning,  with  its  accustomed  duties  brought 
some  degree  of  order  back  to  Miss  Deborah's  mind. 
She  was  going  to  keep  the  girl — already  Jeremy  was 
spreading  it  broadcast  that  the  girl  was  to  be 
"comp'ny,"  so  there  remained  for  her,  now,  the 
necessity  of  guarding  carefully  the  secret  that  April 
was  of  the  "circus." 

In  Miss  Deborah's  room  above  April  Dangerfield 
was  slowly,  with  a  difficulty  that  was  painful,  waking 
to  a  realization  of  the  strange  things  about  her — the 
quaint  old  bureau,  the  straight-backed,  rush-bottomed 
chairs  set  primly  against  the  wall,  the  "sampler" 
which  Deborah's  baby  hands  had  made,  the  "God 
Bless  Our  Home,"  cross-stitched  in  wool,  and  framed 
in  sea-shells,  the  pleasant  odors  wafted  from  below, 
and  the  unutterable  quiet. 

Then  Miss  Deborah  faced  her  in  the  frame  of  the 
open  door. 

"Oh,  it  is  dreadfully  late?"  April  remembered 
the  "nine-thirty."  "Has — has  the  train  gone?" 

Deborah  Manny  swallowed  twice.  "The  nine- 
thirty's  gone.  I've  'bout  made  up  my  mind  to  try 
you.  'Pears  to  me  I  don't  need  you  much  as  you  need 


DEBORAH  DECIDES  59 

me,  but  I  guess  mebbe  it'll  work  both  ways.  But  we 
might's  well  have  an  understandin'  this  minit  that's 
long  as  you're  under  this  roof  there's  to  be  no  men- 
tionin'  of  circuses  or  circus  ways  or  folks,  for  I 
don't  want  the  Manny  name  to  be  draggin'  'round  in 
the  dust.  I  don't  s'pose  there's  much  you  can  do  until 
you  learn,  but  you  can  get  up  and  do  it,  and  you'd 
better  put  on  this  blue  print  o'  mine  'cause  I  don't 
want  to  lay  eyes  on  those  fixins  you  brought  down 
here  with  you." 

While  Miss  Manny  was  speaking  April  had  been 
slowly  rising.  At  the  conclusion  of  her  outburst  the 
girl  stood  poised  in  the  center  of  the  room,  a  slim 
little  thing  in  her  clinging  robe.  She  threw  out  her 
hands  toward  Miss  Manny  with  a  gesture  which 
threatened  that  good  soul.  Her  face,  which  a  moment 
before  had  been  white,  flushed  rosy  pink  and  her 
eyes  darkened. 

" Redly  f  Oh,  I'll  wear  anything — any  old  thing, 
and  oh,  I'll  work  so  hard  and  I'll  promise  anything 
you  want  me  to  i  f  I  may  stay  until — Toto  comes !  Oh 
please,  I  have  to  speak  of  him  because  he's  all  I've 
got  and  he's —  But  I  will  try  not  to  speak  out  loud. 
I'll  just  think.  I'll  dress  fast.  Do  you  mind  my 
undergarments?  They're  'most  worn  out,  anyway. 
Oh,  oh,  I  could  hug  you !"  Miss  Manny  took  a  re- 
treating step.  April  stared  about  her.  "I  re-mem- 
ber," she  said  slowly.  "I  had  a  dreadful  dream.  I 


60  APRILLY 

came  to  you.  Oh — I — wish — "  Tears  were 
very  close. 

"Just  you  forget  your  bad  dreams,  Aprilly."  In 
spite  of  herself  Miss  Manny's  voice  was  kind. 
"You're  here  in  Blossom  safe  s'can  be,  and  if  you 
mind  your  p's  and  q's  you  can  stay  here.  Now  run 
in  and  dress  and  come  down  and  we'll  have 
some  breakfast." 

"April-ly !  Oh,  how  funny.  No  one  ever  called 
me  that  I  like  it — from  you,  'cause  you're  so  dif- 
ferent from  anyone  I  ever  knew  in  the — in  the — Oh, 
I'll  remember!  Don't  look  so  cross.  And  see  if  I 
don't  hurry !"  April  snatched  the  blue  print  and  fled 
to  the  back  bedroom. 

Before  the  sun  had  set  on  that  eventful  day  April 
Dangerfield  was  established  in  the  Manny  household. 
It  had  happened  joyously  for  the  girl,  not  so  smoothly 
for  poor  Miss  Deborah.  In  the  ship-shape  rooms  of 
the  old  house,  with  their  quaint,  simple  furnishings, 
April  had  found  countless  things  which  she  noisily 
proclaimed  "darling"  and  "funny"  and  "precious." 
Again  and  again  she  ran  to  the  door  which  opened 
upon  the  narrow  porch  and  drew  in  long  breaths  of 
the  sea-sweet  air.  To  the  child  who  had  just  come 
from  the  squalor  and  darkness  of  Fleming  Street  the 
bit  of  yard  between  the  house  and  the  picket  fence, 
its  grass  and  flower-beds  sadly  neglected  but  shaded 
by  crowding  elms,  ages  old,  was  more  beautiful  than 


DEBORAH  DECIDES  61 

the  most  beautiful  park  she  had  ever  seen  in  the  long 
walks  with  Claribel.  But  it  was  not  easy  for  poor 
Miss  Deborah  to  become  in  a  moment  accustomed  to 
either  the  bursts  of  song  and  laughter  or  the  threats 
of  tears  and  the  shadow  which,  at  some  sudden  mem- 
ory, would  swiftly  cross  April's  face.  A  hundred 
times  at  least,  the  girl  had  "set  her  nerves  all  every 
which  way  with  her  helter-skelter  ways" ;  moreover 
poor  Deborah  lived  in  a  perpetual  horror  that  April 
might  kiss  her.  (Daylight  had  made  her  forget  the 
thrill  she  had  felt  the  night  before  when  clinging 
hands  had  pressed  against  her.) 

The  "circus"  clothes  had  all  been  packed  away  in 
a  chest  in  the  attic.  "They  ought  t'  be  burned,  but  I 
s'spose  it's  wicked  to  burn  good  cloth  even  if  'tis 
sewed  up  in  fuss  and  feathers."  The  "blue  print" 
fitted  April  as  though  it  had  been  made  for  her ;  its 
simplicity  set  off  the  prettiness  of  her  oval-shaped 
face,  and  its  color  enhanced  the  reddish  gleams  in  her 
short  curly  hair. 

So  full  was  the  day  of  wonder  for  April  that  it 
closed  a  door  upon  the  tragedy  she  had  only  just  lived 
through.  She  forgot  Mrs.  Slavosky  and  Fleming 
Street— even,  for  the  moment,  poor  Queenie.  Youth 
is  blessed;  life  is  selfishly  strong  in  young  veins. 

However,  she  avoided  the  waxen  flowers  from 
Mrs.  Tyler's  grave.  As  she  watched  Miss 
Deborah  turning  them  and  twisting  them  she  felt  an 


62  APRILLY 

inexplainable  shrinking.  The  supper  dishes  (the  blue 
and  white  set  with  not  a  cup  or  saucer  so  much  as 
chipped)  had  been  put  away.  A  glorious  purplish  and 
pink  twilight  had  set  in. 

Suddenly  Deborah  dropped  a  white  rose  in 
her  lap. 

'"Land  o'  sakes,  I'd  clean  forgotten  the  new  'Pisco- 
pal  minister !" 

April  danced  before  her,  alive  with  interest. 

"Oh,  was  he — was  he — my  Mr.  Nice- face?" 

Deborah  frowned.  "Set  down  and  don't  jig  in 
front  of  a  body.  If  you  mean  the  man  you — followed, 
don't  let  me  hear  another  word  'bout  it.  /  meant  the 
new  'Piscopal  minister  what  come  to  St.  Stephen's 
yesterday.  I'm  a  Baptist,  but  a  Baptist  can  be  inter- 
ested in  a  'Piscopal.  It  isn't  reverend  for  you  to  be 
calling  a  new  minister  by  light  names — he's  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Michael  Brown. 

April  was  too  crestfallen  to  heed  the  rebuke. 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry!" 

"You'd  better  be.  I'm  sorry  I  got  so  short  with 
Jeremy  'fore  he  told  me  all  'bout  the  new  man.  He 
looked  like  one  of  these  college  students.  His  hat  cer- 
tainly wa'nt  much  like  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel — 
light  gray  and  all  soft !  Now  7  think  black's  fittin'." 

"I'm  sorry,"  April  paused  tragically,  "  'cause 
he's  a  minister  at  all.  I  think  it's  horrid. 
They're  unlucky!" 


DEBORAH  DECIDES  63 

"Unlucky!" 

"Dreadfully.  Ridoo,  the — the — I  can't  tell  you 
what  he  was  because  you  made  me  promise,  you  see, 
said  that  one  of  them  a  mile  off  always  puts  a  hoodoo 
on  a — oh,  you  know !  And  on  trains  and  boats,  too. 
Oh,  dear,  I  remember  now  he  did  have  a  collar  on  that 
didn't  stop  in  front  but  went  right  around  behind.  I 
I  was  so  frightened  I  didn't  think  much  about  that. 
But  I'm  going  to  always  call  him  my  Mr.  Nice-face." 

"Aprilly!"  Deborah's  voice  was  terrible  in  its 
sternness.  April  added,  entreatingly. 

"Just  to  myself,  Miss  Deborah.  That  can't  be 
not  reverend.  And,  oh,  do  tell  me  who  were  the  girls 
and  the  boy  who  came  on  the  train  that  day?"  To 
April  "that  day"  seemed  ages  past.  "One  they  called 
Rose,  and  I  liked  her.  She  was  ever  so  pretty." 

"The  Merediths— up  at  Forest  Hill.  The  Mere- 
diths ain't  a  New  England  family,  but  Car'line 
Truitt  married  a  Meredith.  There's  been  Truitts  in 
Blossom  ever  since  the  Mayflower  come  over,  I  guess. 
Only  Car'line's  grandpa  was  the  last  that  ever  stayed. 
Her  own  pa  went  off  to  college  and  after  that  Blossom 
wa'nt  lively  enough  for  him  same  as  with  Car'line. 
She  keeps  old  Cyrenus  Todd  and  his  wife  there  to 
keep  things  aired  and  ready  and  she  comes  up  here  to 
rest.  It  makes  things  here  nice  and  lively  when  the 
young  folks  come  up.  I  don't  know  who  your  Rose  is, 
but  seems  to  me  I  heard  tell  of  a  cousin  on  the 


64  APRILLY 

Meredith  side.  Anyways  Blossom  ain't  so  big  that 
you  won't  know  them  all  pretty  soon !" 

"Then  Chrissy  must  be  Chrissy  Meredith.  And 
how  old  is  she  ?  Where  does  she  go  to  school  ?  Oh, 
I  went  to  school  for  just  six  weeks,  and  it  was  such 
fun!  There  were  nice  girls  there,  like  Rose.  I  felt 
awfully  shy,  though,  'cause  you  see  I  wasn't  used  to 
going — "  April  stopped  suddenly,  alarmed  at  the  con- 
sternation in  Miss  Deborah's  face. 

"The  size  of  you  and  no  schoolin'  ?"  Her  words 
were  half  denunciation,  half  interrogation.  April 
laughed  her  relief. 

"Oh,  yes,  lots  and  lots,  but  it  was  different.  Toto 
always  taught  me.  Oh,  please,  I  didn't  mean  to  speak 
of  him !  But  I  wish  you  knew  Toto.  You'd  love  him. 
He  isn't  a  bit  like  a  clown." 

Miss  Deborah  stiffened  so  suddenly  that  her 
flowers  fell  about  her. 

"It  ain't  likely  that  I  want  to  know  the  likes  of 
your  Toto  or  whatever  you  call  him.  And  it  won't 
hurt  you  a  speck  to  have  more  schoolin'  in  the  fall — if 
you're  here.  Nor  Sunday  schoolin'  either." 

April  was  on  her  knees  straightening  the  poor 
flowers — not  caring  now  that  they  had  marked  Mrs. 
Tyler's  grave.  She  hummed  a  catchy  bit  of  a  refrain. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  happy,  Miss  Deborah,  just  because 
I  feel  so — so — sort  of — taken  care  of !  I  don't  believe 
there's  a  thing  in  Blossom  I  will  not  just  love — even 


DEBORAH  DECIDES  65 

Sunday  schooling.  And  it's  jolly  knowing  Mr. 
Nice — h'm,  the  Reverend  Mister  Michael  Brown, 
and  Chrissy  and  Rose.  I  feel  as  though  I  belong. 
May  I  run  out  by  the  gate  and  just  watch  the  road? 
Will  you  need  me?" 

Deborah  answered  shortly  that  she  did  not.  She 
held  her  flowers  loosely  in  her  hand  while  she  watched 
the  slim  little  figure  in  the  blueprint  dance  out  into  the 
shadowy  twilight.  Something  strange  caught  in  her 
throat.  Then  she  shook  herself. 

"No  need  your  swallowin  your  Adam's  Apple, 
Debory  Manny,  over  a  red-headed  girl  that  can't  do 
nothing  but  sing  and  laugh  all  the  time."  She  twisted 
her  lips  into  a  grim  line.  "You  wanted  a  God-f earin* 
hired  girl  and  you've  got  a  circus  performer's  brat  \ 
Well,  Blossom  ain't  going  to  know  it  if  you  can 
help  it!" 


CHAPTER  VI 
APRIL  MEETS  THE  MEREDITHS 

Blossom  had  its  main  street,  its  aristocracy,  and 
its  "new  people." 

Sneed's  Emporium  and  the  Post  Office,  flanked 
on  the  right  by  the  old  Tavern,  known  as  the  Armes 
I  House,  made  the  Hub  of  the  town.  Opposite  this 
center  of  commerce  a  strip  of  rough  common,  shaded 
by  spreading  elms  and  dignified  by  a  gaudily  painted 
bandstand,  served  as  a  gathering  place  for  the  whole 
county.  A  row  of  rotting  hitching  posts  outlined 
the  common.  Across  from  the  Post  Office  was  the 
First  Baptist  Church,  of  red  brick  and  squatty  in  line. 
To  the  right  of  the  common  the  main  street  straggled 
off  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  then  turned  abruptly  into 
the  "station  road."  At  the  turn  stood  St.  Stephen's, 
its  weather-worn  steeple  almost  hidden  by  the  shelter- 
ing trees.  Back  of  it,  hedged  in  by  barberry  and  over- 
grown with  myrtle,  rested  past  generations  of  Blos- 
som folk.  An  opening  through  the  hedge  led  to  the 
Rectory  garden. 

Blossom's  "aristocracy,"  because  it  was  made  up 
of  men  who  followed  the  sea,  lived  out  toward  the 
Cove.  Those  hardy  ones  had  built  their  homes  where, 
from  the  small-paned  windows,  their  women  folk 

66 


APRIL  MEETS  THE  MEREDITHS          67 

could  watch  the  ships  sail  in  behind  the  Point.  It  had 
come  to  be  called  the  Lighthouse  Road. 

Though  men  of  the  later  generations  had  taken  up 
other  callings  and  had  moved  away,  others  became 
masters  of  the  big  ships  which  steamed  in  and  out  of 
Boston  harbor  and  came  to  Blossom  only  once  in  a 
great  while,  others,  like  Lymus  Lee's  father  and  Cap- 
tain Manny,  had  added  to  their  acres  and  tilled  the 
soil  with  only  a  wistful  thought  now  and  then  sea- 
ward, though  the  Cove,  once  alive  with  sails,  was 
deserted  except  for  a  few  fishermen  and  the  summer 
picnicers  and  the  old  stone  lighthouse  on  Windover 
Point  had  been  abandoned  for  a  new  range  light  on 
Peter's  Island,  ten  miles  up  the  coast,  the  Lighthouse 
Road  had  remained,  and  would  always  be  the  aristo- 
cratic highway  of  Blossom. 

Blossom  had  its  legend,  too — a  legend  of  the  sea, 
as  befitted  Blossom  traditions.  Early  in  the  history 
of  the  place  Captain  Ephraim  Blossom  sailed  the  good 
ship  Queen  Bess  in  and  out  of  the  Cove.  In  the  small 
cottage  on  the  point  Ephraim' s  young  wife,  Priscilla, 
kept  things  ship-shape,  mended  her  husband's  nets, 
and  was  beloved  throughout  the  county  because  of 
her  winsome  ways.  But  there  came  a  day  when  Cap- 
tain Ephraim  sailed  out  of  the  Cove  on  his  last 
voyage ;  a  day  of  storm  and  ill-omen,  so  the  story  had 
it,  a  day  when  fishermen's  wives  gathered  at  the  Cove 
and  lingered  there  whispering  together,  with  bent 


68  APRILLY 

heads  and  worried  eyes.  At  nightfall  the  fishermen, 
one  by  one,  had  returned,  but  none  had  sighted  the 
good  Queen  Bess.  Louder  and  louder  boomed  the 
gale — the  tide  was  out;  no  boat  attempting  to  make 
the  Cove  could  escape  the  Devil's  Shoal,  south  of  the 
Point.  But  little  Priscilla  Blossom  had  not  been  made 
of  the  stuff  that  wailed  and  wrung  its  hands.  After 
seeing  to  it  that  her  own  hearth-fire  was  glowing, 
she  had  braved  the  menace  of  the  gale  and  had  gone 
to  the  far  end  of  the  Point  where  huge  waves  lashed 
the  rocks  with  such  fury  that  the  hissing  water  eddied 
about  her  very  feet.  There  she  had  stood  all  through 
the  night  waving  at  the  end  of  a  long  pole  her  danger 
signal.  In  the  morning  neighbors  had  found  her  at 
her  watch.  The  lashing  wind  had  broken  the  pole; 
the  young  wife,  exhausted,  had  sunk  down  upon  the 
wet  rocks. 

"He  is  calling  me,  can't  you  hear  him  ?"  she  had 
moaned  over  and  over.  Then,  while  they  stood, 
frightened,  staring  out  across  the  angry  waters  she 
had  given  a  wild  cry  and  had  plunged  down  into  the 
seething  depths. 

That  afternoon  the  wreckage  of  the  Queen  Bess 
had  been  washed  into  the  Cove.  Nothing  was  ever 
seen  of  either  Captain  Ephraim  or  little  Mistress 
Priscilla;  somewhere  they  were  united.  But  from 
that  day  to  this,  the  story  had  it,  on  windy  nights  in 
the  little  stone  cottage  on  Windover  Point,  the  two 


APRIL  MEETS  THE  MEREDITHS  69 

whispered  together  by  the  open  hearth.  Captain  Joe 
Merry  who,  in  later  years,  had  bought  the  cottage, 
declared  he'd  heard  it,  many  a  time.  "Sort  of  f  riendli- 
like  to  have  'em  there,"  he  had  said  boastfully,  but 
nevertheless  he  and  his  wife  had  moved  into  the  old 
Sturgis  house  farther  down  on  Lighthouse  Road,  and 
Windover  Cottage  had  gone  untenanted. 

Years  ago  Ebenezer  Truitt  had  abandoned  the  sea 
to  establish  a  shipyard  at  the  Cove.  So  successful 
was  his  enterprise  that  he  built,  on  a  rise  of  ground 
overlooking  his  ways,  a  pretentious  house  of  red  brick, 
with  spacious  gables  and  broad  porches.  Blossom 
people  called  it  Forest  Hill  because  at  its  back  stretched 
a  thick  belt  of  woodland.  After  two  generations 
the  shipyard  had  been  abandoned;  only  a  few  old 
rotting  timbers  stood  in  the  Cove  to  attest  to  the  days 
of  bustle  and  activity;  younger  Truitts  had  sought 
their  livelihoods  in  big  cities,  had  grown,  indeed,  to 
look  upon  Forest  Hill  as  only  a  haven  for  their  old 
age.  By  inheritance  it  had  finally  come  to  Caroline 
Truitt,  who  had  married  Thomas  Meredith,  unknown 
in  Blossom  until  the  day  he  had  come  there  with  his 
bride  to  spend  their  honeymoon. 

The  Merediths  had  a  house  in  New  York  and  a 
camp  in  the  Adirondacks,  so  that  they  spent  little  time 
at  Forest  Hill.  Cyrenus  Todd  and  his  wife  lived  in 
two  rooms  over  the  big  kitchen;  at  infrequent  inter- 
vals Mrs.  Cyrenus  aired  and  dusted  the  unused  rooms, 


70  APRILLY 

while  Cyrenus  clipped  the  hedges,  mowed  the  lawns 
weeded  the  flowerbeds  and  repaired  shutters  and 
shingles.  In  spite  of  them  both,  however,  about  the 
old  place  hung  a  melancholy  air — as  of  something 
abandoned,  outgrown,  unwanted. 

Chrissy  Truitt  Meredith,  Caroline  Truitt's  only 
daughter,  felt  this.  "Every  time  I  come  to  Forest 
Hill,"  she  confided  to  her  cousin  Rose,  one  evening 
soon  after  their  arrival  in  Blossom,  as  the  two  idly 
swung  in  a  hammock  on  the  wide  porch  of  the  old 
house, "this  house  gets  on  my  nerves.  It'  so  dreadfully 
silent !  I  feel  as  though  we  were  all  of  us  out  of  place — 
like  going  to  a  funeral  in  your  sport  clothes,  loaded 
down  with  picnic  stuff.  It  must  have  been  dreadful  for 
mother  to  live  here  when  she  was  a  girl,  you  know. 
Only  she  went  away  to  school,  just  like  I  do." 

Her  cousin  Rose  thought  Forest  Hill  "lovely." 
From  each  of  her  windows  she  could  glimpse  blue 
stretches  of  the  sea  between  the  trees.  And  a  short 
walk  through  a  beech  wood  took  them  to  the 
sandy  cove. 

"Of  course,"  went  on  Chrissy,  "if  we  could  fill 
the  place  with  a  lot  of  girls  and  boys  it  would  be  heaps 
of  fun.  But  mother  only  comes  here  when  she  wants 
to  rest.  When  I'm  old  I'm  never  going  to  rest.  I 
think  Dad  ships  us  up  here,  too,  when  he  wants  to 
get  rid  of  us.  If  there  was  only  some  one  in  the  town 
that  one  could  even  speak  to." 


APRIL  MEETS  THE  MEREDITHS         71 

In  spite  of  Chrissy's  gloom  Rose  refused  to  see 
anything  but  the  bright  side  of  Forest  Hill 
and  Blossom. 

"Perhaps  there  is,"  she  suggested  hopefully. 
"There  must  be  nice  people  in  those  dear 
little  houses — " 

Chrissy  sniffed  contemptously ;  then  she  straight- 
ened suddenly.  She  had  spied  Keith  coming  tip  the 
gravel  drive.  "Any  letters?"  she  called  loudly. 

Keith  held  out  his  hands  to  signify  that  they  were 
empty.  He  wore  white  flannels  and  a  soft  shirt  open 
at  the  throat.  His  head  was  bare.  He  was  whistling 
in  a  cheery  way  as  though  he  thought  the  world  a  very 
jolly  world  indeed. 

With  a  groan  Chrissy  sank  back  into  the  depths 
of  the  hammock. 

"Why,  you  silly,  we've  only  been  here  three  days ! 
How  many  letters  did  you  expect?" 

"If  the  girls  only  knew  how  lonesome — " 

"Why  don't  you  do  something  besides  knit  all  the 
time?"  demanded  her  brother.  He  stretched  himself 
comfortably  in  one  of  the  wicker  chairs.  "Look  at 
me !  I  don't " 

"Knit,  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  say.  How 
strange!  Were  the  lights  of  Broadway  as  bright 
as  ever?" 

Keith  ignored  her  withering  sarcasm.     "It's  all 


72  APRILLY 

kinds  of  fun  hanging  'round  the  Post  Office  and  talk- 
ing to  the  people."  He  directed  his  conversation  to 
Rose.  "They're  all  a  nice  crowd — only  different. 
They're  just  as  good  as  we  are,  only  Chrissy  won't 
think  so.  Mother  was  born  here,  you  see,  and  knows 
all  these  people  by  their  first  names — " 

"Keith  Meredith,  how  she'd  scold  you  if  she  could 
hear  you.  Of  course  one  can't  help  where  one  is  born, 
but  mother  went  away  to  school  when  she  was 
very  little—" 

"Say,"  Keith  broke  in,  "I  saw  that  girl  who  came 
down  on  the  train  with  us." 

Both  Rose  and  Chrissy  sat  bolt  upright  in 
their  interest. 

"Really?  Did  you?  Did  she  have  on  that  scream 
of  a  hat?"  This  from  Chrissy. 

"Oh,  how  do  I  know  what  kind  of  a  hat  she  had 
on  ?  She  was  bare-headed,  anyway.  And  she's  pretty 
i — prettier  than  you  or — Rose." 

"Oh,  thank  you!  Who  is  she?  Where  does 
she  live?" 

"Why  don't  you  stir  off  this  veranda  and  find  out 
things  yourself?  Her  name  is  April  something-or- 
other,  and  she's  staying  at  Deborah  Manny's — " 

"A — a  servant?" 

"N-no,  just  as  company  or  to  help  her,  I  guess. 
She  said  she  loved  Miss  Manny !"  This  with  a  remi- 
niscent chuckle. 


APRIL  MEETS  THE  MEREDITHS         73 

"Did  you  speak  to  her?"  Chrissy's  tone  was 
scandalized. 

"Why,  of  course,  I  asked  her  how  she  liked 
Blossom." 

"Keith  Meredith,  you're  just  common!  Talking 
to  any  kind  of  a  girl !  I  know  what  mother'll  say  to 
you  if  I  tell  her.  She's  probably  nothing  but  a  plain, 
hired  girl" 

Keith  curled  his  arms  about  his  knees  and  hugged 
them.  He  loved  to  tease  his  sister. 

"Well,  old  Jeremy  says  she's  Miss  Manny's 
'comp'ny/  but  maybe  that's  the  same  as  hired  girl. 
but  she's  not  plain!  I'll  say  not." 

"Sh-h!"  implored  Rose  leaning  suddenly  for- 
ward. "Chrissy — Keith,  isn't  that  she — com- 
ing now?" 

Up  the  winding  drive  that  led  to  the  house  from 
the  road,  her  head  thrown  back  so  that  the  soft  breeze 
caught  her  short  hair  and  blew  it  in  pretty  disorder 
about  her  temples,  half  running,  half  skipping, 
came  April. 

Chrissy  and  Rose  sprang  from  the  hammock 
in  a  half -guilty  confusion.  Keith  stepped  for- 
ward politely. 

April's  cheeks  were  flushed  from  her  hurry 
rather  than  any  embarrassment.  She  came  lightly 
up  the  steps,  one  hand  outstretched.  On  her  face  was 
frank  and  friendly  curiosity. 


74  APRILLY 

"Isn't  it  nice  that  Miss  Manny  sent  me  up  here  on 
an  errand?  I  have  wanted  to  see  you  girls  again  ever 
since  that  afternoon  on  the  train.  I'm  April  Danger- 
field,and  I  know  who  you  all  are  because  Miss  Manny 
told  me.  Oh,  doesn't  that  smell  good!"  rapturously 
sniffing  toward  the  ocean. 

"Do  come  and  sit  down,"  Chrissy  murmured  po- 
litely. Keith  drew  forward  one  of  the  low  chairs. 
April  sank  into  it  with  a  wide  smile  which  took  in 
the  three  of  them.  Then,  aghast,  she  gripped  the 
small  package  she  carried. 

"Oh,  dear  me,  as  Miss  Manny  would  say,  where 
is  my  head !  I'd  have  f  orgetten  this  thing,  and  it's  the 
reason  I  came !"  She  laughed,  a  little  throaty  laugh 
that  brought  smiles  to  the  others'  faces.  "Behold, 
Deborah  Manny's  Gooseberry  Preserve,  made  from 
the  recipeof  her  great-great-grandmother!  And  here's 
the  recipe.  'Car'line  Truitt  asked  me  for  my  goose- 
berry preserve  recipe  as  good  as  three  years  ago  when 
she  stopped  right  here  at  my  house  for  it,  and  it  went 
clean  out  of  my  mind  from  that  day  'til  this,  and  I 
saw  Car'line  Truitt' s  boy  go  by  here  like  to  break  his 
neck!'  There,  that's  just  what  she  said,  and  here's 
the  recipe  and  a  jar  of  gooseberries  thrown  in 
for  apology." 

April's  mimicry  was  so  deliciously  like  little  Miss 
Manny  that  even  Chrissy  laughed  and  forgot  that 
April  was  a  stranger  and,  perhaps,  a  "nobody." 


APRIL  MEETS  THE  MEREDITHS         75 

"I'll  take  it  to  mother.  I  have  often  heard  her 
speak  of  that  certain  kind  of  gooseberry  preserve." 
With  a  rustle  of  crisp  skirts  Chrissy  disappeared 
through  the  door. 

"You  don't  have  to  go  right  home,  do  you?" 
pleaded  Rose,  who  was  fascinated  by  April's  smile. 
"Chrissy  and  I  were  just  saying  how  lonely  it  is  with- 
out the  girls — the  girls  at  school,  I  mean.  Weren't 
we,  Chrissy?"  to  Chrissy,  hurrying  back. 

April  wanted  nothing  on  earth  more  than  an  invi- 
tation to  linger  with  these  young  people.  "Miss 
Manny  saidForest  Hill  was  beautiful, but  oh, it's  more 
than  that !  It's  so — so  hushed,"  April  drew  a  quick 
breath,  "as  though  lovely  hopes  and  dreams  were 
buried  all  'round  here.  And  whichever  way  you  turn 
you  can  see  the  ocean,  can't  you?  And  isn't  this  the 
comfiest  chair?  Miss  Manny'd  have  it  locked  up 
in  her  parlor!" 

For  a  half  hour  the  young  people  chatted  about 
one  thing  and  another.  Then  April  remembered  sud- 
denly that  she  had  promised  Miss  Manny  to  re- 
turn quickly. 

"Oh,  I  never  can  remember.  Poor  Miss  Manny 
will  look  at  me  so  cross.  I'll  have  to  run  home  so  as 
to  get  there  before  dark.  May  I  come  again?  And 
can't  we  all  go  exploring  down  on  that  jolly  looking 
point.  Miss  Manny  told  me  the  story  of  poor  little 
Mistress  Blossom !  I  think  it  was  lovely  to  name  the 


76  APRILLY 

town  after  her,  but  then,  I'm  sure  I'd  rather  be  alive 
than  to  even  have  a  town  as  nice  as  this  named  after 
me,  I'm  going,  going,  going !  Good-by !  Good-by !" 
And  like  a  flash  April  raced  off  down  the  gravel  drive. 

Not  one  of  the  three  Merediths  said  a  word  until 
April,  with  a  last  wave  of  a  small  white  hand,  swung 
into  the  road.  Then  Keith  turned  triumphantly. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  she  was  the  prettiest  thing?" 

Chrissy  sniffed.  April's  charm,  for  her,  had 
broken  with  April's  disappearance.  "If  you  call  a  thin 
thing  like  her  in  that  funny  apron  effect  the  prettiest." 

"But  Chrissy,"  Rose  was  moved  to  champion 
Keith.  "That  was  it.  Even  in  that  calico  she  looked 
just  as  well  dressed  as  anyone.  And  she's — she's 
different — "  Rose  groped  for  the  words  she  needed 
to  convey  her  impression,  "she's  so  sparkly!  And 
you  want  to  laugh  all  the  time." 

"Her  hair  isn't  as  pretty  as  yours,  Rose.  It's 
lots  redder." 

"She  looked  jolly  like  a  boy.  I'll  bet  she'd  be  fun 
fishing  and  hiking,"  declared  Keith. 

Chrissy  yawned.  "Of  course  there's  no  accounting 
for  taste,"  with  a  withering  glance  sidewise  at  Keith, 
"but  anyway  she's  something  up  here  in  this  desola- 
tion, and  I  shall  speak  to  her  again  when  I  see  her." 

"Why,  Chrissy!"  cried  Rose,  scarcely  believing 
her  ears.  She  shut  her  lips  upon  the  rebuke  which 
sprang  to  them.  She  stood  a  little  in  awe  of  her 


APRIL  MEETS  THE  MEREDITHS         77 

cousin,  not  so  much  because  Chrissy  was  six  whole 
months  older  as  because  she  was  much  more  ex- 
perienced in  the  ways  of  the  world,  and  never  failed 
to  remind  Rose  of  that  fact.  "I'm  glad  we  know 
her,"  Rose  finished.  "She's — she's  mysterious."  At 
last  she  had  found  the  word  she  wanted.  It  pleased 
her  to  think  that  they  knew  nothing  of  the  whimsi- 
cal little  stranger  who  had  blown  in  and  out  of  their 
evening  quiet. 

Meantime  in  Miss  Manny's  kitchen,  April, 
breathless,  astride  of  a  wooden  chair,  was  telling  Miss 
Manny  that  she  had  met  the  Merediths. 

"They're  just  dears,"  she  cried,  enthusiastically. 
"Chrissy  looked  like  a  picture  out  of  a  fashion  plate — 
all  pinky  and  ruffly  and  she  had  the  darlingest  feet, 
but  I  liked  Rose  best — her  hair's  red,  but  it  isn't  as  red 
as  mine,  and  she's  dear,  and  Keith's  nice,  too.  Oh,  I 
feel  as  though  I  had  always  wanted  to  know  just  those 
girls !  May  I  go  picnicing  with  them  some  day?" 

Miss  Deborah  bent  her  head  low  over  the  table. 

"Did  you — did  you — tell  them — about — the 
circus?" 

April  smothered  a  little  sigh.  "Of  course  not.  I 
couldn't.  I'd  promised  you.  But,  oh — I  wanted  to." 


CHAPTER  VII 
MR.  NICE-FACE 

"Oh,  please,  please,  Miss  Manny." 

April,  kneeling  before  Miss  Manny,  a  wreath  of 
waxed  flowers  on  her  flattened  palms,  lifted  dancing 
eyes  to  the  woman's  face. 

No  longer  had  April  any  dread  of  the  waxen  blos- 
soms. When  Miss  Manny  worked  at  her  little  table  in 
the  west  window  April  sat  "at  her  elbow"  and 
watched  each  movement  of  the  thin,  work-hardened 
fingers.  She  listened  delightedly  to  Miss  Manny's 
reminisences,  awakened  by  the  drooping  flowers,  of 
the  lilies-of-the-valley  which  had  been  spread  like  a 
blanket  over  Sara  Cullen's  little  sister's  grave  (April 
had  thought  it  very  lovely  to  sleep  under  lilies-of-the- 
valley)  ;  of  the  pink  roses  which  Minnie  Howe's 
brother's  wife  had  sent  from  Boston,  and  which 
Deborah  Manny  thought  "next  thing  to  an  insult — 
pink  roses!"  And  then,  "those  flowers  off  Carrie 
Maytham's  grave — her  sister  gave  me  the  whole  lot 
so's  to  have  some  on  hand.  She  didn't  want  any  piece 
at  all.  Carrie  was  a  sort  of  misfit  in  her  fam'Iy  any- 
ways; made  trouble  right  up  to  the  minit  of  her 
fun'ral.  Didn't  the  cuckoo  clock  her  uncle  give  her 

78 


MR.  NICE-FACE  79 

Xmas  before  last  up  and  cuckoo  just  when  the  mini- 
ster was  saying  'Let  us  pray.'  Mebbe  that  wasn't 
Carrie's  fault,  but  ev'ry  one  sort  of  thought  she  had  a 
hand  in  it !"  April  felt  as  though  she  knew  those  quiet 
sleepers  in  the  little  graveyard  far  better  than  the  men 
and  women  who  stared  at  her  with  frank  curiosity 
when  she  went  to  the  post  office. 

The  pretty  wreath  she  held  had  inspired  her. 

"Oh,  please,  Miss  Manny,  make  one  for  Mr. 
Nice — I  mean  the  Mr.  Rev.  Michael  Brown.  It'd  be 
like  a  gift  of  welcome.  It  must  be  terribly  hard  to 
come  to  a  strange  place  where  you  don't  know 
whether  people  are  going  to  be  nice  to  you  or  not !"  A 
tragic  note  creeping  into  April's  voice,  betrayed  that 
her  words  came  straight  from  her  heart. 

"It'd  be  a  nice  enough  thing  to  do,  I  guess.  But 
who  ever  heard  tell  of  a  Baptist  giving  a  'Piscopal 
presents  ?  Why  the  whole  town'd  be  up  and  talking." 

This  was  beyond  April's  understanding.  The  fine 
divisions,  plain  to  Miss  Manny,  between  her  "Bap- 
tists" and  "  'Piscopals"  did  not  exist  for  her. 

"He'd  like  it  all  the  better  because  you  are  a  Bap- 
tist, Miss  Manny.  And  I'll  take  it  to  him !  Then  we'll 
get  acquainted  just  the  way  I  did  with  the  Merediths 
when  I  took  the  gooseberry  preserve  to  them." 

Miss  Manny  shook  her  head.  Her  poor  head,  in- 
deed, had  been,  to  use  her  own  grieved  expression, 
"going  right'round  in  a  circle,"  trying  to  keep  up  with 


80  APRILLY 

her  new  "charge,"  "I  thought,  Deborah  Manny, 
you  always  knew  what  was  what,  until  you  took  that 
girl,"  she  had  more  than  once  inwardly  grumbled. 

"I  don't  know  as  it's  right  to  send  presents  by  a 
girl  like  you — " 

"Oh,  please,  Miss  Manny !  When  you  think  of  a 
nice  thing  to  do  you  ought  to  do  it  right  off  quick  or 
you'll  begin  to  see  reasons  why  maybe  you  shouldn't 
do  it,  and  then  while  you're  fussing — why,  it's  too 
late !  There  isn't  anyone  in  Blossom  who  could  send 
him  a  pretty  little  gift  of  welcome  like  this.  And  I'll 
just  take  it  and  say  how-do-you-do  and  come  back  as 
quickly  as  anything." 

"Like  as  not  the  poor  fellow's  beside  himself  with 
that  housekeeper,"  mused  Miss  Manny.  I  always  say 
there's  two  kinds  of  women,  them  that  keeps  the 
kettle  boilin'  and  ready  and  them  that  keeps  their 
kettle  boilin'  cold,  and  Mrs.  Prowett's  the  last  kind — 
always  was  and  always  will  be,  her  mother  was  before 
her.  And  a  young  man  like  he  looked  to  be  wouldn't 
know  what  was  the  matter !  I  don't  know  as  it  would 
do  a  bit  of  harm  to  make  up  a  pretty  little  wreath  he 
could  hang  up  on  his  wall !  It  might  help  him  to  write 
good  sermons." 

April  clapped  her  hands.  "Of  course  it  would. 
And  let's  pick  out  the  brightest  flowers — "  In  a  flash 
she  was  sorting  over  the  waxed  blossoms. 

As  "comp'ny"  for  Miss  Deborah  April  measured 
up  to  the  need — and  a  little  over ;  as  help,  she  failed 


MR.  NICE-FACE  81 

dismally,  but  with  such  a  pretty  remorse  that  Miss 
Manny  found  herself  endeavoring  to  cover  over  the 
shortcomings  from  even  her  own  observation.  April 
did  not  know  thatin  the  long  intervalsof  silence, when 
Miss  Manny  sat  with  brooding  eyes  and  close-shut 
lips,  she  was  often  rebuking  herself. 

"Debory  Manny,  if  you  don't  stop  givin*  in  to 
that  girl's  titivatin'  ways,"  she  was  scolding  now  as 
she  took  the  flowers  April  selected,  "she'll  be  runnin' 
right  over  you." 

On  the  following  afternoon,  with  an  excitement 
greater  even  than  that  she  had  felt  when  she  visited 
Forest  Hill  April  approached  the  Rectory,  |ier  "wel- 
come token,"  carefully  wrapped  in  tissue  paper,  in  her 
hand.  She  had  never  in  her  life  met  a  "real"  minister. 
And,  added  to  her  curiosity,  was  the  deep  sense  of 
gratitude  she  felt  toward  Mr.  Nice-face  because  he 
had  led  her  to  Blossom  and  the  shelter  she  was 
finding  there. 

She  approached  the  Rectory  through  the  church- 
yard and  the  adjacent  graveyard,  stepping  lightly 
and  carefully  between  the  leaning  stones.  The  door 
of  the  Rectory  was  wide  open.  Through  it  she  caught 
a  glimpse  of  a  deserted  kitchen.  "Cluttered  up,"  was 
her  first  thought,  using  Miss  Manny's  phrase.  She 
knocked  twice,  then  tiptoed  softly  over  the  threshold. 

Except  for  its  untidiness  the  "preacher's"  kitchen 
was  very  like  Miss  Manny's.  Then  April  spied  a  note 


8a  APRILLY 

on  the  table  among  some  unwashed  plates.  Quite 
unashamed,  she  read  it.  It  was  signed  "Michael 
Brown,"  and  told  Mrs.  Prowett  that  Michael  Brown 
had  gone  to  the  Shore  Club  to  play  golf,  and  would 
not  be  home  until  late  evening. 

"Mrs.  Prowett!"  April  called.  The  echo  of  her 
voice  was  her  only  answer. 

"How  funny!"  The  Mr.  Rev.  Michael  Brown 
was  off  playing  golf  instead  of  writing  a  sermon  and 
his  housekeeper  had  evidently  deserted,  too.  The 
Rectory,  in  its  reputed  untidiness,  was  open  to  the 
world — anyone,  even  a  Baptist,  could  come  in. 

Gripped  by  curiosity,  April  tiptoed  through  the 
house,  from  one  room  to  another.  Then  she  softly 
crept  upstairs,  lingering  at  the  top  with  bated  breath 
to  listen  for  any  sound.  She  crossed  quickly  to  an 
open  door.  It  led  into  a  long  narrow  room,  dis- 
orderly like  the  others.  Though  the  bed  had  been 
made,  across  it  had  been  laid  the  week's  laundry.  On 
the  bureau  was  a  confusion  of  collars,  ties,  papers, 
even  books.  A  square  table  placed  in  the  exact  centre 
of  the  room  was  littered  with  more  papers,  more 
books.  Only  the  old-fashioned  desk  near  the  low 
window  was  conspicuous  for  its  order. 

"Here  is  where  he  writes  his  sermons,"  whispered 
April,  and  she  laid  Miss  Manny's  wreath  upon  it. 

Then  a  fancy  seized  her.  She  fell  to  work  to  bring 
order  out  of  the  prevailing  chaos.  She  crammed 


MR.  NICE-FACE  83 

the  fresh  laundry  into  one  of  the  deep  bureau  drawers. 
She  whisked  collars  and  ties,  books  and  papers,  into 
another ;  she  piled  the  books  on  the  table  in  neat  rows, 
straightened  the  photographs  on  the  narrow  mantel. 
Then  just  as  she  stepped  back  to  survey  her  work  she 
was  startled  by  a  cheery  whistlng  and  a  mannish 
step  below. 

The  room  offered  only  one  refuge.  At  its  end 
stood  a  tall  walnut  wardrobe.  To  it  April  fled,  threw 
open  the  door,  crept  between  the  clothes  hanging  with- 
in and  softly,  very  softly,  closed  the  door  behind  her. 
She  had  acted  none  too  quickly ;  the  steps  came  bound- 
ing up  the  stairs,  to  the  door.  The  whistling  sud- 
denly stopped  as  though  the  sight  of  the  old  desk 
in  the  window  might  have  brought  a  more 
serious  mood. 

Then  'April,  half -smothered  among  the  coats  and 
trousers,  heard  the  crackling  of  paper,  followed  by  a 
low  chuckle.  He  had  found  the  wreath.  An  interval 
of  silence  indicated  that  he  was  observing  her  efforts 
in  his  room — perhaps  mentally  thanking  old  M^s. 
Prowett  for  her  sudden  housewifely  activity. 

How  long  could  she  live  among  the  coats  and 
trousers,  and  why  did  people  pack  things  away  in 
camphor !  Poor  April,  her  nose  pressed  against  the 
tiniest  crack  in  the  back  of  the  wardrobe,  thought 
these  things  and  many  others.  What  would  Miss 
Manny  say  if  she  never  returned?  What  would 


84  APRILLY 

Blossom  say  when  it  knew  that  she  had  smothered  in 
the  Mr.  Rev.  Brown's  wardrobe  ?  And  what  would  he 
say  when  he  went  to  his  wardrobe  to  look  for  gray 
trousers  and  found  a  little  girl  there  instead? 

But  at  that  precise  moment,  when  April  was  pic- 
turing herself  sleeping  under  lilies-of -the- valley, a  tiny 
tickling  mastered  her.  "Ki-shu!"  "Ki-shu!"  came 
from  the  depths  of  the  wardrobe. 

Two  seconds  of  terrible  stillness,  a  quick  step,  the 
wardrobe  door  was  thrown  wide  open,  revealing  to 
Michael  Brown's  startled  senses,  two  dark  blue  eyes 
gleaming  through  masses  of  disheveled  red  hair. 

"Come  out  of  there !"  Michael  Brown  could  easily 
be  forgiven  for  the  sternness  of  his  voice!  But 
reason,  in  a  flash,  told  him  bold  bandits  did  not  have 
laughing  blue  eyes  nor,  as  a  rule,  wear  blue  print  apron 
dresses !  In  fact,  as  April  slowly  emerged  from  the 
dangling  trousers  and  stood,  a  slim  little  thing,  before 
him,  he  wanted  to  roar  in  sheer  relief.  But  he  con- 
trolled the  desire. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  demanded. 

April  suddenly  began  to  laugh,  a  low  little  giggle 
— this  was  all  so  different  from  what  she  had  pic- 
tured her  meeting  with  Mr.  Nice- face  would  be !  She 
had  practiced  such  a  polite  little  speech  before  Miss 
Manny.  And  what  would  Miss  Manny  say  if  she 
knew  that  the  Mr.  Rev.  Michael  Brown  had  found 
her  hanging  among  his  clothes? 


MR.  NICE-FACE  85 

"I'm  not  laughing  at  you,"  April  hastened 
to  explain  politely.  "I'm  laughing  because — it's 
so  funny !" 

"Perhaps,  to  you !  Rather  unusual  for  me  to  meet 
a  young  lady — in  this  fashion." 

"Oh,  but  you  see  I  know  you !  I  came  with  you 
to  Blossom.  You  didn't  know  it,  but  I  did.  And 
I'm  staying  with  Miss  Manny.  And  she  wanted — or 
she  didn't  want  to  at  first,  but  I  coaxed  her — she 
thought  she  ought  not  to  because  she  was  a  Baptist, 
to  send  you  a — wreath  as  a  sort  of — oh,  welcome. 
And  I  brought  it  over.  Your  house  was  empty.  And 
it's  really  dreadfully  untidy.  So  I  thought  it  would 
be  fun  to  straighten  things  up  a  little — here.  And  I 
was  just  finishing — when  you  came — "  For  sheer 
lack  of  breath  April  brought  her  confession  to 
an  end. 

Now  Michael  Brown  laughed.  He  picked  up 
the  wreath. 

"I  have  heard  of  Miss  Manny's  flowers.  Will 
you  thank  her  for  me?  Or  I'll  stop  there  myself. 
She's  very  kind.  I'm  sorry  you  were  frightened  in 
your  good  work.  But  you  gave  me  a  start,  too." 

"Were  you — were  you — "  April  spoke  in  an 
awed  tone,  "going  to  write  a  sermon?" 

"Sermon?  No,  child.  I  don't  write  many  of 
them.  I  just  talk.  Whenever  I  have  written  them  I 
always  find  I'm  moved  to  say  something  else,  it  comes 


86  APRILLY 

in  spite  of  me.  I  had  planned  to  go  over  and  play 
eighteen  holes  of  golf  to-day  to  get  my  brain  cleared 
out,  but  I  was  sidetracked  by  a  sick  call.  There  wasn't 
enough  time  left  for  the  golf  so  I  came  home.  On 
the  way  I  met  Mrs.  Prowett  and  told  her  to  go  along 
to  her  niece's.  You  have  certainly  cleared  things  up 
nicely,  but  do  you  suppose  I'll  be  able  to 
find  anything?" 

April  was  staring  in  a  sort  of  rapture  at  her  Mr. 
Nice-face.  She  knew  his  voice  would  be  like  that — 
deep  and  jolly  and  kindly;  that  when  he  talked  he 
would  give  that  twist  to  his  lips  that  made  one  think 
he  was  going  to  smile.  And  his  eyes  were  jolly,  too, 
only  they  had  heavy  brows  which  had  a  way  of 
straightening  quickly,  giving  his  face  a  serious  look. 
April  did  not  know  just  why  she  liked  his  chin,  but 
she  thought  it  was  because  it  was  like  her  Toto's. 

"Oh — "  she  murmured,  startled  out  of  her  pleas- 
ant absorption.  "Oh — yes!  Everything's  right  there 
in  the  top  bureau  drawer!" 

"Say,  Miss — April,  is^t?  I've  heard  of  you.  You 
said  something  about  having  met  me  before!  Sup- 
pose now,  just  for  a  sort  of  punishment,  you  come 
down  into  the  kitchen  with  me  and  make  me  some 
tea  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

Down  in  the  kitchen  April  pinched  herself  to 
make  herself  believe  that  it  was  all  true.  From  a 
funny  old  cupboard  Michael  Brown  had  taken  down 


MR.  NICE-FACE  87 

all  sorts  of  things  to  eat  while  she  made  the  tea.  He 
insisted  that  they  have  their  repast  on  the  veranda. 
The  tea  was  strong  and  bitter,  the  bread  cut  unevenly, 
the  jam  spilled  on  the  cloth  April  had  commandeered 
from  a  chest  in  the  dining-room,  but  the  birds  sang 
in  the  high  branches,  the  fragrance  of  honeysuckle 
filled  the  air,  and  April  was  aglow  with  delight. 

Her  story,  as  she  told  it  to  him,  over  the  bread  and 
jam,  was  very  simple :  "I  was  running  away.  Oh, I  had 
to  because  it  was  a  dreadful  place!  I  saw  you  and 
followed  you  because  you  had  a  suitcase.  And  I  had 
just  enough  money  to  buy  the  same  kind  of  a  ticket 
you  did.  I  got  on  the  train  with  you  and  sat  behind 
you,  and  it  made  me  feel  as  though  I  was  really  going 
with  you.  And  then  that  funny  old  Jeremy  was  look- 
ing for  someone,  and  just  took  me  to  Miss  Manny — " 

Michael  Brown,  puzzled,  wanted  to  ask  a  great 
many  questions.  But,  to  his  "Have  you  no  parents  or 
relations?"  she  shook  her  head,  and  something  in 
the  shadowed  eyes  held  him.  Some  tragedy  had 
touched  the  child,  of  that  he  was  certain. 

But  in  a  moment  the  gleam  of  laughter  came  back 
into  April's  eyes.  She  leaned  toward  him  across  the 
table.  "I'm  ever  so  glad  to  know  that  ministers  aren't 
bad  at  all.  I  was  dreadfully  disappointed  when  I 
found  out  you  were  a  preacher!  I  called  you  Mr. 
Nice-face,  and  oh,  dear,  Miss  Manny  nearly  died  of 
horror — she  said  that  it  was  very  disrespectful.  I 


88  APRILLY 

didn't  mean  it  to  be.  But  you  see,  I  don't  know  as 
much  about  preachers  as  Miss  Manny.  I've  never 
even  gone  to  Sunday-school!  Miss  Manny  says  I 
must  begin  right  away.  I  hope  it'll  be  as  nice  as  the 
beautiful  books  I  used  to  read.  I  guess  I'll  go  to  a 
Baptist  Sunday-school.  She — Miss  Manny,  thinks 
that's  better.  It  would  be  dreadful  to  go  to  hell, 
wouldn't  it?  I  never  thought  much  about  it,  but 
Miss  Manny  says  I'll  know  all  about  it  when  I  begin 
to  go  to  Sunday-school." 

April  was  dismayed  at  the  suddenness  with  which 
Michael  Brown's  brows  drew  together.  But  his 
lips  twitched. 

While  April  chattered  on  Michael  Brown  listened 
and  pondered.  Like  Rose,  he  was  stirred  by  the 
"mystery"  of  this  will-o-the-wisp.  She  was  no  waif, 
there  was  every  evidence  that  she  had  been  reared  care- 
fully ;  there  was  about  her  the  pretty  audacity  of  one 
who  has  been  petted  by  many ;  she  had  a  childish  trust 
in  her  fellow  mortals.  And  yet,  friendless,  she  had 
fled  after  him  to  Blossom ! 

"Are  you  happy  at  Miss  Manny's?"  he  asked  so 
suddenly  that  April  dropped  a  piece  of  bread  and  jam, 
jam  side  down. 

"Oh-h,  yes !  Sometimes,  when  she's  cross  looking 
I'm  a  little  afraid  of  her.  She's  so  different  from — 
from — oh,  the  family,  you  know.  And  there  are  so 
many  things  she  thinks  about,  things  that  I  can't 


MR.  NICE  FACE  89 

understand !  Perhaps,  some  day,  I  can  ask  you.  She 
thinks  so  many  things  are  dreadfully  wicked,  like — " 
April  flushed  under  the  embarrassment  of  not  being 
able  to  speak  frankly.  With  resolute  effort  she 
smiled.  "Anyway,  Toto — he's  my  dearest  friend — 
will  come  sometime,  I  know.  And  Blossom  is  beauti- 
ful and  I  love  the  sea  andlhave  Chrissy  and  Rose  and 
Keith  Meredith  for  my  friends  and  I  will  be  happy !" 
The  last  words  came  with  a  determined  lift  of  the 
small  chin. 

Moved  by  a  brave  defiance  in  the  girl's  face 
Michael  Brown  reached  out  and  patted  the  small, 
jam-stained  fingers. 

"If  I'm  responsible  for  bringing  you  here,  Miss 
April,  I  shall  have  to  look  after  you.  Please  count 
me  in  your  circle  of  friends,  will  you?  Miss  Manny 
is  a  fine  soul,  you  must  always  feel  very  loyal  to  her, 
but  when  anything  bothers  very  much  come  to  me  and 
talk  it  out!  And  you  need  only  say  just  wfiaf  you 
want  to!" 

April's  eyes,  dark  with  pleasure,  opened  wide. 
"How  did  you  guess  that  I'd  promised  Miss  Manny 
not  to— to  talk!  Oh,  you're  wonderful!  And  we 
will  be  friends,  won't  we?  And  you  won't  mind  if  I 
call  you  Mr.  Nice- face?  It's  so  much  friendlier  than 
the  Mr.  Rev.  Michael  Brown.  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  Miss 
Manny  sent  you  the  welcome  wreath !" 


CHAPTER  VIII 
LEILA  LIGHTWOOD 

June  slipped  into  July,  with  misty  mornings,  long, 
hot,  cloudless  days,  and  golden  twilights. 

April,  blissfully  unconscious  that  Blossom  still 
quivered  with  curiosity  over  her,  and  hung  on 
Jeremy's  scant  fund  of  information,  that  Michael 
Brown  more  than  once  pondered  over  her  coming  to 
Blossom,  his  musings  sometimes  interrupted  by  silent 
laughter  as  he  recalled  the  picture  of  her  bright  eyes 
peeping  out  from  behind  dangling  trousers,  that 
Chrissy  and  Rose  excitedly  argued  over  her,  and  that 
Miss  Manny  still  had  a  "goneness  at  the  pit  of  her 
stomick,  just  thinkin'  what  Blossom  folks'd  say  if 
they  knew  what  the  girl  was,"  felt  more  and  more  at 
home  in  Miss  Manny's  spic-and-span  house  and 
gradually  forgot  to  watch  for  the  word  from  Toto. 

Just  once  Miss  Manny  had  allowed  April  to  tell 
her  something  of  her  story.  She  had  sat,  grim- faced, 
and  listened,  then  she  had  silenced  her  abruptly. 

"I've  heard  enough.  I  don't  want  to  know  nothin' 
'bout  those  awful  folks  with  legs  and  arms  growin' 
together,  and  two  heads  and  things.  'Taint  likely 
any  of  'em  '11  come  to  Blossom,  and  if  they  ever  do, 
well,  you  won't  speak  to  them,  there." 
90 


LEILA  LIGHTWOOD  91 

April,  hurt  at  her  unsympathetic  tone,  did  not 
want  to  tell  more.  She  would  not  expose  to  Miss 
Deborah's- scorn  her  precious  Marietta  and  Philomena 
Snow  and  Evalina  Du  Monte,  who  could  do  such 
beautiful  things  while  she  hung  by  her  teeth  from  a 
ring,  mid-air.  Someday  she  would  ask  Michael 
Brown  why  Miss  Manny  thought  them  so  wicked. 

Though  Miss  Manny  did  not  need  to  remind  any- 
one in  Blossom  that  a  Manny  was  as  good  as  a 
Meredith,  or  a  Truitt,  nevertheless  she  took  keen  de- 
light in  having  the  Meredith  car  stop  frequently  at 
her  house,  in  having  Miss  Chrissy  and  Miss  Rose  sit 
on  her  porch  with  Aprilly.  Too,  she  had  her  own 
reason  for  encouraging  April's  friendship  with  the 
young  people  at  Forest  Hill ;  so  long  as  Aprilly  de- 
voted all  her  leisure  time  to  the  Merediths,  her  secret 
was  safe.  It  was.  not  likely,  the  good  woman  reas- 
oned, that  April  was  going  to  tell  them  that  she  came 
from  a  circus.  No,  indeedy !  So  she  helped  plan  the 
picnics,  the  beach  suppers  at  the  Cove,  the  frequent 
trips  in  the  Mabel  T.  When  Keith  rented  a  launch 
and  with  Cap'n  Merry  brought  it  down  from  Port- 
land she  did  little  more  than  lift  her  hands  and  with 
only  an  "invitin'  death,  /  call  it,"  she  let  April  go 
out  in  it. 

For  the  same  reason  that  Miss  Manny  abetted 
April's  intimacy  with  the  Merediths,  to  the  absorp- 
tion of  every  moment  of  the  long,  lazy,  tranquil  sum- 


92  APRILLY 

mer  days,  she  suddenly  abandoned  her  determination 
that  April  should  have  "Sunday-schoolinV  For  this 
she  had  much  to  answer  to  her  stern  Puritan  con- 
science. She  tried  to  make  it  up  to  April  by  daily 
readings  from  the  Bible,  which  April  enjoyed  im- 
mensely, though  she  scandalized  poor  Miss  Manny 
by  asking  all  sorts  of  questions  concerning  what  they 
read  together.  Miss  Manny  thought  it  wicked  to  call 
any  portion  of  the  Good  Book  a  story — and  as  to 
asking  questions  about  it !  Then  each  Sunday  April 
learned  a  hymn  which,  all  through  the  week  she  sang 
joyously  over  the  dishpan,  while  Miss  Manny  prayed 
inwardly  that  no  terrible  visitation  might  come  to  the 
house  as  a  result  of  Aprilly's  heathenish  "goin's-on." 
Usually  when  "Gentle  Saviour,  Lead  Me,"  floated  in 
to  her  to  the  rattle  of  the  pump  handle  she  clapped  her 
hands  to  her  ears  that  she  might  not  hear. 

Silenced  though  she  was  before  Miss  Manny,  with 
the  Merediths  poor  April  felt  a  growing  longing  to 
talk  of  herself.  During  the  pleasant  outings,  the  long 
walks  on  the  Point,  the  bon-fire  picnics  in  the  Cove, 
Chrissy  and  Rose  gave  their  girlish  confidences  gen- 
erously. Chrissy's  were  far  more  enlivening  than 
Rose's,  though,  to  April,  Rose's  life  seemed  like  one 
in  a  story-book.  Her  mother  had  died  when  she  was 
a  baby,  her  father  had  been  lost  at  sea  somewhere 
very  far  away.  She  could  not  remember  either  of 
them.  Her  uncle  had  placed  her  in  a  school  outside 


LEILA  LIGHTWOOD  93 

of  Tarrytown,  where  the  teachers  wore  gray  robes 
and  spoke  in  soft  voices,  where  the  children  played  in 
a  beautiful  walled  garden  and  sang  in  a  quaint  old 
stone  chapel  with  lovely  stained  windows*  Rose  had 
stayed  there  until  she  had  learned  all  that  the  school 
could  teach  her,  then  she  had  gone  to  Oakdale  with 
Chrissy  and  had  become  a  member  of  her  uncle's 
family.  April  liked  to  think  of  Rose  as  a  little  saint, 
kneeling  in  the  glow  of  rainbow-stained  windows 
such  as  she  had  seen,  with  Claribel,  in  great,  beauti- 
ful cathedrals.  April  thought  it  horrid  of  Chrissy  to 
call  Rose  'Trudy,"  but  Chrissy  could  say  many  rude 
things  that  others  could  not  because  of  her  sprightly, 
animated  way.  Chrissy,  at  sixteen,  was  a  magnetic 
young  person  who  wore  her  clothes  jauntily  and  made 
everyone  think  she  was  very  clever  and  pretty.  She 
labored  to  keep  up  a  consistent  snobbishness,  befit- 
ting what  she  primly  called  her  "position,"  though  at 
times  she  found  it  very  hard,  for  she  possessed  an 
instinctive  good  nature  and  a  great  curiosity  con- 
cerning those  whose  lives  touched  her  own. 

When  Chrissy  talked  of  the  girls  at  Oakdale,  the 
vacations  in  the  mountains,  of  Great-aunt  Matilda 
who  lived  in  Washington,  and  Cousin  Theodore-this 
and  Cousin  Winifred- that,  April  longed  to  tell  the 
girls  of  her  beloved  "family,"  of  Queenie,  and  Toto, 
of  Marky,  slim  and  handsome  in  his  tight-fitting 
scarlet  clothes  and  shiny  black  boots,  of  Marietta, 


94  APRILLY 

beautiful  as  a  French  doll,  of  Philomena  Snow. 
Chrissy  and  Rose  chattered  about  their  life  at  school, 
of  the  places  they  had  been;  April  wanted,  in  turn, 
to  tell  them  of  the  dusty  suffocating  tents,  of  the 
blare  of  music,  of  the  great,  breathless,  applauding 
crowds,  of  the  marvelous  gymnasts,  the  jugglers,  the 
tight-rope  walkers,  the  sleek  horses,  the  lumbering 
elephants,  performing  marvelous  tricks,  the  brave 
Mile.  Citi  and  her  trained  lions,  the  endless  traveling 
in  special  cars,  the  long  walks  in  strange  cities  with 
Claribel,  when  Queenie  would  not  let  her  go  to  the 
"show."  April  thought  it  unfair  that  she  must  lock 
her  lips  upon  such  wonderful  confidences;  that  she 
could  not  tell  these  new  friends  that  she!  too,  had 
a  "family." 

April  thought  Chrissy  bragged.  That  had  been 
a  pet  accusation  of  little  Marietta,  who  had  often  in 
April's  presence,  angrily  declared  that  Eralina  Du 
Monte  "bragged,"  that  Mile.  Citi  "bragged."  April 
had  found  these  little  jealous  flare-ups  in  the  pad- 
room  most  enlivening,  and  was  always  sorry  when 
Toto,  the  family  peacemaker,  smoothed  things  over. 

"Mother  says  she  likes  to  have  me  know  her 
friends  real  well,  so  that  when  I  come  out  I'll 
have  poise!" 

Neither  April  not  Rose — nor,  indeed,  Chrissy 
herself — knew  just  what  "poise"  meant,  nevetheless 
Chrissy's  superior  manner  drove  April  beyond  en- 


LEILA  LIGHTWOOD  95 

durance.  The  girls  were  stretched  on  the  sand  at 
the  Cove.  Although  a  pleasant  breeze  off  the  water 
tempered  the  heat  of  the  afternoon,  April  looked 
very  warm  as  she  lifted  her  face  from  the  lazy  task 
of  letting  the  white  sand  trickle  through  her  fingers. 

"My  mother  always  wanted  me  to  know  her 
friends,  too,"  she  answered  quickly. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Chrissy's  face 
wore  an  expression  of  interested  expectancy.  It  was 
the  first  time  April  had  mentioned  her  mother. 

"My  mother  had  ever  so  many  friends,"  April 
went  on.  "They  were  awfully  clever  people,  too." 

"I  adore  clever  people.  Were  they  artists  and 
musicians  and  actresses?"  Chrissy's  eyes  were 
laughing. 

"All  kinds."  April  did  not  care  much,  now,  what 
she  said.  Chrissy's  fine  superiority  must  be  broken. 
"But  her  very  best  friend  was  an  author — oh,  the 
loveliest  woman,  all  velvet  like  a  pansy.!' 

"What  a  darling  way  of  describing  a  person,** 
broke  in  Rose. 

"Tell  us  more  about  her.  What  did  she  write? 
Books?  Poetry?  There  was  a  man  at  school  who 
wrote  poetry.  He  came  there  to  read  from  His  Own 
Works.  He  had  long  hair  and  wore  a  funny  jacket 
like  a  smock." 

For  a  fraction  of  a  moment  April  hesitated.  She 
would  have  liked  to  tell  the  girls  the  true  story.  It 


96  APRILLY 

had  been  during  those  few  months  immediately  after 
Queenie  had  left  the  "show,"  when  they  had  lived  in 
the  big  Boston  hotel,  that  the  "loveliest  woman"  had 
come  into  her  life.  Wandering  about  the  wide  cor- 
ridors with  Claribel  she  had  first  seen  her  sitting  at 
a  little  desk  in  one  of  the  adjoining  parlors.  The 
circle  of  soft  glow  from  the  small  lamp  at  the  desk 
had  given  her  what  April  called  the  "pansy"  look. 
April  had  whiled  away  many  a  lonely  moment  in 
watching  other  hotel  guests  and  pretending  that 
she  knew  them,  sometimes  other  children,  happy- 
faced,  immaculately  dressed,  escorted  about  by  trim 
nurse-maids  who  would  not  let  them  speak  to  anyone, 
sometimes  very  old  gentlemen  or  pompous  old  ladies 
with  huge  hats  and  ermine.  It  was  great  fun  to  make 
believe  that  they  said:  "How  do  you  do,  my  dear? 
Have  you  time  to  run  up  to  my  room  and  have  3 
bon-bon — or  a  bit  of  chocolate  marshmallow  ice- 
cream, or  see  the  new  game  I  have,  or  the  book  or — " 
April  had  been  overjoyed  to  learn  from  Claribel  that 
the  "pansy"  lady  was  living  at  the  hotel,  and  that  she 
might  pretend  ever  so  much  about  her.  Queenie 
wanted  to  stay  in  her  room  all  the  time  and  was  quite 
willing  that  she  and  Claribel  should  go  wherever 
they  wished.  Because,  at  the  time,  April  felt  vaguely 
that  Queenie  needed  friends,  she  pretended  that  the 
"pansy"  lady  was  her  mother's  dearest  friend. 


LEILA  LIGHTWOOD  97 

Then  one  day  Claribel,  who  shared  her  secret 
play,  came  to  her  with  the  astonishing  news,  gleaned 
from  the  chambermaid  on  their  floor,  that  the  "pansy" 
lady  was  Miss  Leila  Lightwood,  a  great  writer; 
Claribel  could  show  April  one  of  Miss  Lightwood's 
books  on  the  hotel  newsstand  that  very  minute. 

When  Queenie  suddenly  decided  to  leave  the  hotel 
April  would  have  found  the  parting  with  her  "pre- 
tend" friend  very  difficult  to  bear  had  not  the  "pansy" 
lady,  meeting  her  in  the  corridor  the  very  day  of 
their  departure,  smiled  at  her  and  said:  "Good- 
morning,  brightness."  That  had  given  her  some- 
thing to  remember. 

But  April  knew  that,  though  Rose  might  under- 
stand her  "pretend"  friends,  Chrissy  was  certain  to 
laugh.  She  turned  her  eyes  away  toward  the  blue 
level  of  the  sea. 

"She's  Miss  Leila  Lightwood,  and  she  writes — 
lots  of  books." 

Chrissy  gave  a  little  scream.  "Leila  Light- 
wood?  Leila  Lightwood  who  wrote  'Bars'?  Why 
she's  my  mother's  cousin-by-marriage's  daughter — 
sort  of  my  cousin.  How  funny!" 

A  dull  red  crept  slowly  over  April's  face.  She 
wished  that  a  great  wave  might  rush  up  and  engulf 
her.  She  dared  not  face  Chrissy  and  let  her  see 
her  guilt. 

"Where  'did  you  know  her?"  Chrissy  demanded. 
7 


9S  APRILLY 

"We  met  her— in  a  hotel— in  Boston."  There 
was  truth  in  that! 

"Oh,  it  must  be  the  same  person.  There  can't  be 
two  people  named  Leila  Lightwood  who  write  books. 
And  only  this  very  morning  mother  received  a  letter 
from  her  saying  that  she  was  coming  here  in  just  a 
few  days.  She's  ever  so  much  fun — she  never  does 
anything  like  other  people.  But,  of  course,  if  you 
know  her,  you  know  that.  Won't  she  be  surprised 
to  find  you  here,  April?" 

Poor  April  caught  suspicion  in  Chrissy's  tone. 
She  muttered  something  to  the  effect  that  Miss  Leila 
"would  be  surprised."  Then  she  declared  that  it  was 
getting  "hotter  and  hotter"  in  the  Cove,  and  that  she 
wanted  to  go  home.  She  was  glad  that  it  was  only 
a  step  to  the  path  to  Forest  Hill.  As  a  tortured  mouse 
must  long  to  escape  from  its  captor  cat  she  longed  to 
escape  from  Chrissy. 

When  they  reached  the  path  which  led  up  to  For- 
est Hill  Chrissy  turned  back  to  say :  "Day  after  day 
after  tomorrow,  April.  And  she'll  be  so  surprised  to 
find  you  here." 

On  the  step  at  Forest  Hill  Chrissy  plumped  down 
with  a  disagreeable  laugh. 

"Well,  I  think  April  Dangerfield  was  telling  a 
great  big  fib,  about  knowing  Leila." 

"Oh,  Chrissy—" 


LEILA  LIGHTWOOD  99 

"Did  you  see  how  queer  she  looked?  Anyway, 
if  Leila  did  know  her  and  her  mother,  now  we'll  find 
out  something  about  her.  And  if  she  didn't — " 

Rose  was  troubled.  She  had  noticed  April's 
guilty  expression;  however  loyalty  urged  her  to 
April's  defense. 

"Chrissy,  perhaps  April  has  some  secret  trouble 
she  can't  tell  us  about.  Lots  of  people  often  have. 
And  their  best  friends  ought  to  help  them  instead 
of  teasing  them.  I'm  never,  never  going  to  pry 
around  to  find  out  things  about  her.  I  like  her  just 
as  she  is." 

Chrissy,  vexed  that  Rose  refused  to  share  her 
suspicions  of  April,  wanted  to  hurt  her  cousin  and 
knew  the  surest  way  of  doing  so.  She  tilted  her  head 
contemptuously.  "Oh,  Rose,  you're  so  simple !  Any- 
one could  fool  you.  I  s'pose  that's  because  you  were 
brought  up  in  that  funny  convent  place  and  knew  so 
few  people.  You  don't  know  how  careful  one  has  to 
be  about  getting  acquainted  with  nobodies.  And 
then  if  they  turn  out  to  be  story-tellers!  Why,  if 
mother  wasn't  so  busy  resting  now  I  know  what 
she'd  have  to  say  about  our  chumming  around  with 
April  Dangerfield." 

Rose,  as  near  that  moment  to  hating  her  cousin 
as  her  warm  heart  could  come,  tried  desperately  to 
frame  a  fitting  retort  to  throw  at  Chrissy's  departing 
back.  Left  alone  she  struggled  with  angry  tears. 


ioo  APRILLY 

"I  don't  care  if  April  fibbed  or  whom  she  knows 
or  who  she  is— I  like  her  and  I'm  going  to  be 
friends/'  she  flung  at  the  nodding  roses. 


CHAPTER  IX 
SACKCLOTH 

"I'm  blest  if  I  know  what's  come  over 
you,  Aprilly." 

Miss  Deborah  gave  vent  to  the  worry  she  had  felt 
for  three  days.  "If  it  ain't  your  liver  then  its  your 
temper.  Red  hair  like  yours  always  has  a  temper  you 
have  to  look  out  for.  Milly  Orcutt,  up  Portland 
way,  had  red  hair,  and  she  took  fits,  her  temper  got 
so  bad." 

April's  eyes  dropped  before  Miss  Manny's 
searching  gaze.  It  was  far  better  for  Miss  Deborah 
to  think  that  it  might  be  her  liver  or  even  her  temper 
than  to  know  she  had  told  a  lie.  She  had  heard  Miss 
Manny  express  her  opinion  of  one  Joshua  King  whose 
word  you  could  not  take  "if  he  stood  on  a  stack  of 
Bibles."  Joshua,  Miss  Manny  had  made  it  plain, 
was  akin  to  a  person  she  spoke  of  as  "old  Harry 
himself,"  and  close  relation  to  circus  folk. 

For  three  days  April  had  refused  to  stir  from  the 
house.  From  behind  a  half-closed  blind  she  had 
watched  her  "pansy  lady"  arrive.  First  she  had 
heard  the  whistle  of  the  train ;  a  little  later,  on  the 
road  outside,  a  horn  had  honked.  Keith  was  driving. 
Chrissy,  in  the  tonneau  with  Miss  Lightwood,  had 

101 


102  APRILLY 

pointed  to  the  house.  April  had  caught  a  glimpse  of 
a  glowing,  tanned  face  turned  toward  her  hiding 
place.  Her  heart,  under  its  weight  of  humiliation, 
had  hurt  her  cruelly. 

In  her  misery  she  could  hear  Chrissy  telling  Miss 
Light  wood  of  her  silly  fib.  And  there  would  be  no 
one  there  to  defend  her,  no  one  to  say  that  she  had 
been  driven  to  it,  that  it  wasn't  a  very  big  fib,  any- 
way, for  Miss  Lightwood  had,  once,  spoken  to  her 
and  said:  "Good-morning,  brightness."  But,  oh, 
now  she  would  never,  never  speak  to  her.  Chrissy 
would  see  to  it  that  Miss  Lightwood  would  have 
nothing  but  contempt  for  her.  And  Rose  and  Keith 
would  despise  her,  too. 

"This  Sloane's  Herb  Tonic  won't  hurt  your  liver 
a  mite,  and  if  it  is  temper 't  won't  hurt  you  either,  and 
you've  got  to  learn  to  fight  that  out  by  yourself," 
broke  in  Miss  Manny  across  poor  April's  pain.  And 
April,  with  equal  resignation,  accepted  the  great  doses 
of  dark,  sticky,  bitter  liquid  and  the  advice  to  "red- 
haired  folks,"  both  of  which  Miss  Manny  handed 
out  with  impartial  faith. 

"It  ain't  that  she's  exactly  what  you  might  call 
downright  sick,"  Miss  Manny  explained  to  Michael 
Brown,  whom  she  met  at  the  Rectory  gate,  "it's  that 
she  don't  smile  once.  And  I  don't  know  as  you'd 
notice  anyone  else  that  don't  smile  but  you  do  in 
Aprilly.  And  she  don't  run  out  into  the  yard  any- 
more like  she  used  to  every  other  minute  and  sing." 


SACKCLOTH  103 

But  for  her  deep  concern  over  April  Miss 
Deborah  might  have  been  aghast  at  appealing  to  the 
new  preacher.  "Don't  know  why  I  out  and  told  him 
the  way  I  did,"  she  did  rebuke  herself  a  moment 
later.  "It's  because  he's  so  sympathizin'  lookin'  and 
more  like  a  human  than  a  preacher,  I'd  say." 

Michael  Brown  had  turned  and,  measuring  his 
step  with  Miss  Manny's  had  gone  with  her  back  to 
her  house.  They  found  April  painstakingly  darning 
a  long  black  stocking.  Over  the  bent  head  and  averted 
face  was  an  air  of  despondency.  Not  even  her  Mr. 
Nice- face  could  win  a  smile  in  greeting. 

For  awhile  Michael  Brown  and  Miss  Manny 
talked  of  little  things  that  were  happening  among  the 
people  in  Blossom.  Then  Miss  Deborah  declared 
that  she'd  "clean  forgotten  that  tick  in  the  woodshed 
that  she  was  goin'  to  fill,"  and  hurried  from  the 
room  with  a  meaning  nod  toward  April.  "If  it's 
temper  he'll  find  out  if  he's  any  kind  of  a  preacher, 
and  if  it's  liver,  well,  there  ain't  anything  better'n 
my  herb  tonic,"  she  soliliquized  over  the  "tick." 

April  threw  one  wild  look  after  Miss  Manny.  To 
tell  Michael  Brown  that  she  had  told  a  lie  would  be 
worse,  even  than  to  tell  Miss  Manny!  So  in  con- 
strained silence,  she  plied  her  needle  furiously  fast, 
with  disasterous  consequences  to  the  poor  stocking. 

"Come,  little  pal,  what's  troubling  you?" 


104  APRILLY 

Michael  Brown's  voice  was  vibrant  with  tender- 
ness, for  he  suddenly  realized  the  loneliness  of  the 
little  soul  before  him,  with  only  Deborah  Manny's 
cramped  understanding.  It  broke  down  April's  de- 
fense. There  was  an  interval  of  silence.  Then :  "I 
told  a  lie !"  she  cried,  stormily,  throwing  the  stocking 
into  the  basket.  "It  wasn't  a  lie  that  hurt  anybody — 
only  myself.  Toto  always  said  that  lies  hit  you  back 
every  time  and  they're  their  own  punishment.  I 
don't  think  I  ever  told  one  before,  even  a  little  bit  of 
a  one.  And  I'll  never,  never  tell  another !" 

Michael  Brown  put  his  hand  under  the  girl's  chin 
and  lifted  her  burning  face.  Where  she  had  dreaded 
to  see  sternness  she  saw  only  kindness. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  can  add  anything  to 
that,"  was  his  amazing,  unbelievable  answer. 

"Oh,  you're  just  like  my  .Toto!"  April  cried 
"I  thought—" 

"Your  Toto  must  be  a  very  wise  man.  An  un- 
truth usually  does  deal  its  own  punishment  some- 
time or  other.  But  you  must  not  hide  away  from 
its  consequences." 

"You  mean — "  April  looked  frightened,  "that 
I — I  ought  to  just  go  and  let  Chrissy  and  the — the 
others — and  Miss  Light  wood — show  how  they 
despise  me?" 

Michael  Brown  smiled  at  her  intenseness.  "April, 
I  don't  know  what  you  have  said  or  done,  and  if  you 


SACKCLOTH  105 

do  not  want  to  tell  me,  you  need  not,  but  you  must 
bear  in  mind  that  your  Chrissy  and  Rose,  and  even 
Miss  Lightwood,  whom,  by  the  way,  I  know  well, 
and  who  is  a  charming  person,  will  despise  you  more 
for  moral  cowardice  than  for  an  untruth  confessed." 

April  stood  rigid  before  her  sentence.  "All 
right,"  she  muttered  slowly.  "I'll  go  there — if  you 
say  so!" 

But  the  bitterness  of  April's  cup  was  unexpect- 
edly sweetened.  Directly  after  the  noonday  meal,  at 
a  moment  when  April  was  alone  in  the  house,  a  knock 
sounded  at  the  door.  April  slowly  wiped  the  dish- 
water from  her  hands  and  crossed  to  lift  the  latch. 
There  on  the  threshold,  clad  in  cool  folds  of  blue- 
lavender,  stood  Miss  Leila  Lightwood. 

In  her  confusion  April  gasped.  Miss  Lightwood 
smiled,  the  same  quick  warm  smile  that  had  made  her 
"Good-morning,  brightness,"  linger  so  long  in 
April's  memory. 

"This  is  little  April  Dangerfield,  isn't  it?" 

April,  tongue-tied,  managed  to  nod.  Miss  Light- 
wood  held  out  her  hand. 

"It's  quite  the  nicest  surprise  finding  you  here 
in  Blossom.  That  is  what  I  said  when  Chrissy  told 
me.  Won't  you  ask  me  in?"  She  did  not  wait  for 
the  invitation;  with  a  pretty  gesture  she  pushed  her 
way  past  April  into  the  living  room.  She  turned  her 
head  to  survey  the  room,  then  dropped  into  Miss 


106  APRILLY 

Manny's  work  chair.  I've  heard  Cousin  Caroline 
speak  so  often  of  old  Cap'n  Manny  and  his  daughter. 
Miss  Manny  is  out,  isn't  she?  I  met  her  near  the 
Emporium.  I  knew  that  it  was  she  by  Cousin 
Caroline's  description.  Oh,  these  dear  New  England 
homes — you  don't  find  anything  like  them  anywhere 
else  in  the  world.  Now,  my  dear,  come  here  and 
let  me  have  a  look  at  you.  Don't  be  afraid  of  me, 
child !  Rose  says  you  call  me  the  Pansy-lady,  and  I 
think  that  is  the  loveliest  thing  I  have  ever 
been  called." 

April  crossed  slowly  to  Miss  Light  wood's  side. 
Miss  Lightwood  pulled  up  a  chair,  indicating  to 
April  to  sit  in  it ;  at  the  same  time  she  caught  April's 
hand  and  patted  it 

"Chrissy  told  me  you  were  staying  with  Miss 
Manny  as  a — a  sort  of  companion.  Are  you  '  on 
your  own  '  now,  as  they  say?" 

April  nodded.  What  if  Miss  Lightwood  should 
ask  her  more  questions?  And  how  much  had 
Chrissy  told?  But  Miss  Lightwood's  smiling  coun- 
tenance betrayed  nothing,  nor  did  she  press 
April  further. 

She  chuckled  softly.  "Chrissy  seemed  a  little — 
well,  put  out,  because  you  and  I — were  old  friends !" 

Now  April  stared.  Was  she  losing  her  senses? 
Had  some  magic  made  her  pretense  come  true  ? 


SACKCLOTH  107 

"But  we're  not"  she  cried  bluntly.  "At  least— 
you  didn't  know — me!" 

"Ah,  but  I  did !  And  that  is  why  I  am  especially 
delighted  to  find  you  here.  Oh,  April  child,  I  don't 
measure  my  friendships  like  other  people.  I  have 
never  exchanged  a  word  with  some  of  my  best 
friends.  I  know  them  only  through  experiences  we 
have  shared  or  words  they  have  written  or  harmonies 
\ve  have  enjoyed  together.  They're  my  spirit  friends. 
And  I  am  always  seeking  them,  everywhere.  One 
day  I  saw  you.  I  liked  you.  I  watched  you  wander 
around  the  hotel  with  your  nurse  or  governess  or 
whatever  she  was.  I  pretended  things  about  you.  I 
thought  you  must  be  very  lonely  and  find  the  days 
long  and  dull ;  I  wished  you  were  running  about  and 
playing  with  other  girls,  going  to  school  and  having 
fun.  I'll  tell  you  a  secret — I  paid  my  chambermaid 
a  whole  dollar  when  she  found  out  for  me  that  your 
name  was  April !  The  fairies  must  have  named  you. 
I  had  called  you  Little  White  Birch,  but  April  is 
really  much  better.  And  then,  suddenly,  you  disap- 
peared. I  was  so  sorry.  I  missed  you.  But  I  do  not 
forget  my  spirit  friends,  no,  indeed.  And  now  we've 
found  one  another  in  Blossom." 

"Why — why — oh,  Miss  Lightwood,  /  was  pre- 
tending— I  knew  you!  And  Claribel  found  out  for 
me  who  you  were.  Then  I  am  a — spirit  friend?" 


io8  APRILLY 

Miss  Lightwood  laughed  at  the  incredulous  look 
in  April's  face. 

"You  are,  and  you're  going  to  be  a  dear  real 
friend,  too — a  little  playmate.  I'm  very  young  in- 
side, you  know.  We  shall  have  jolly  times  together. 
I'm  certain  I  am  going  to  love  this  quaint  place.  I'm 
planning  to  stay  here  the  rest  of  the  summer.  Won't 
you  walk  back  with  me,  now,  to  Forest  Hill?" 

April's  brows  drew  sharply  together.  She  re- 
membered Chrissy — and  Michael  Brown — and  what 
he  had  said. 

"I — I  told  Chrissy  that  you  were  a — a  friend  of 
my  mother's.  She  bragged  so,  she  just — "  But 
April  broke  off;  to  blame  Chrissy  for  her  own  short- 
comings was  not  the  moral  courage  Michael  Brown 
would  want.  "I  told  a  lie.  I've  got  to  tell  her  and 
Rose  that  I—" 

"Oh  April!"  cried  Miss  Lightwood,  with  tragic 
appeal.  "That'll  give  away  our  secret !  I  don't  tell 
anyone  like  Chrissy— or  even  Cousin  Caroline — 
about  my  spirit-friends.  They  simply  couldn't  under- 
stand— they're  that  kind." 

April  frowned.  "But  I  must.  Michael  Brown 
— I  mean  the  Mr.  Reverend  Michael  Brown  told  me 
I  had  to—" 

Miss  Lightwood  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter. 
"Micky  Brown  ?  Oh,  dearie  me,  I  used  to  dance  with 
him  in  dancing  school — and  play  tennis.  I  beat  him 


SACKCLOTH  109 

once,  too.  And  here  he  is  now,  spreading  the  sack- 
cloth for  a  sinner  like  me !" 

"Oh,  not  you,  Miss  Lightwood,  just  me." 

Miss  Lightwood  sprang  up  and  caught  April's 
hand.  "All  right,  little  lady,  we'll  go  together  and 
you  may  confess  anything  you  want  to.  But  wait 
until  I  see  Michael  Brown!  And  I'm  very  eager  to 
see  him,  I'm  very,  very  fond  of  him.  There  aren't 
many  like  him.  Can  we  run  right  along  or  is  there 
something  you  must  do?" 

It  took  only  a  moment  to  whisk  the  last  of  the 
dinner  dishes  away,  then  April  slipped  off  hej  apron, 
caught  up  a  sun  hat  and  declared  she  was  ready. 
With  Miss  Lightwood  beside  her  she  could 
face  anything ! 

To  her  surprise  it  was  not  at  all  difficult  to 
acknowledge  to  Chrissy  her  silly  fib.  And  Miss 
Lightwood  hastened  to  follow  her  awkward  confes- 
sion with  an  explanation  to  them  all — even  Mrs. 
Meredith  was  sitting  on  the  porch  with  the  girls — of 
how,  across  the  "crowded  loneliness  of  the  Copley- 
Plaza  their  two  spirits  had  met  in  a  wordless  but 
none  the  less  friendly  communion."  Not  one  of 
them  understood  and,  over  Chrissy's  head,  Miss 
Lightwood  winked  at  April  in  a  meaning  way.  That 
wink  warmed  April's  heart  through  and  through; 
with  this  delightful  bond  between  Miss  Lightwood 
and  herself  why  need  she  care  because  she  could  not 


no  APRILLY 

tell  Chrissy  and  Rose  and  Keith  of  the  "family" 
which  had  once  been  hers? 

Michael  Brown  had  been  right.  The  girls  would 
have  despised  her  if  she  had  been  afraid  to  face  them. 
April,  who  had  never  before  had  to  confront  a  moral 
issue,  thrilled  over  her  discovery.  She  felt  a  friend- 
lier note  in  Chrissy's  voice.  Rose  reproached  her 
volubly  for  having  stayed  away  from  Forest  Hill  so 
long,  thereby  missing  an  excursion  to  Pullett's  Bay. 

"But  Keith  says  Old  Cap'n  Joe  will  take  us  in  the 
Mabel  T.  to  Pigeon  Island.  There's  a  cave  there 
and  some  ruins.  And  we'll  take  our  lunch  and  stay 
all  day.  Will  Miss  Manny  let  you  go,  April?" 


CHAPTER  X 

GULLFAXI 

Miss  Manny  let  April  go  to  Pigeon  Island  and 
on  many  other  jolly  outings.  Though,  all  her  life, 
she  had  rigidly  maintained  that  "all  play  and  no  work 
makes  a  body  worth  next  to  nothin',"  she  now  dis- 
played a  surprising  inclination  to  indulge  April  in 
as  much  play  as  she  wanted.  Perhaps  it  was  because 
April's  "wild"  ways,  as  she  called  them — drove  her 
"nigh  to  distractin'." 

"Anyways  it  costs  less  to  have  her  out  of  the 
house,"  she  admitted  to  an  inquisitive  neighbor, 
"what  with  her  teasin'  to  bake  pies  and  then  f  orgettin' 
them  in  the  oven  'cause  she  heard  a  thrush !  Never 
heard  one  before.  Beats  me  what  she  sees  when 
she's  starin'  up  in  the  trees.  Downright  makes  me 
creepy.  But  she's  smart  as  a  whip,"  Miss  Deborah 
hastened  to  add,  when  she  saw  the  neighbor's  lips 
part  as  though  to  frame  a  word  of  sympathy.  "And 
I  don't  know  what  I'd  do  without  her." 

So  the  summer  passed,  for  April,  happily;  she 
found  in  her  new  life  delights  she  had  never  known, 
even  in  the  days  when  poor  Queenie  had  reigned  su- 
preme in  her  world  of  canvas  and  sawdust.  The  old 


iia  APRILLY 

Manny  homestead,  built  a  hundred  years  ago,  was  to 
April,  who  had  never  known  a  real  home,  a  veritable 
palace;  its  quaint  furnishings  and  its  treasures, 
brought  by  seafaring  Mannys  of  past  generations, 
were  to  her  more  precious  than  the  priceless  treasures 
of  the  finest  palace.  And  April  loved  Miss  Manny 
the  more  for  her  many  eccentricities.  Had  she  not 
grown  up  with  eccentric  people? 

She  was  accepted  by  Chrissy  and  Rose,  now,  un- 
reservedly. Chrissy  even  forgot  to  laugh  at  her 
made-over  clothes.  From  Miss  Leila  the  girls  learned 
little  more  than  that  April  had  lost  her  mother  and 
had  to  support  herself.  They  no  longer  wondered 
over  what  she  had  been  or  why  she  never  spoke  of 
anything  that  had  happened  before  she  came  to  Blos- 
som. It  was  enough  for  them  that  she  was  invari- 
ably a  jolly  comrade,  ready  for  any  adventure, 
brimful  of  initiative  and  daring,  always  in  high 
spirits.  Her  reticence  only  added  the  charm  of  mys- 
tery to  her  many  other  charms. 

To  April's  regret  Miss  Lightwood  divided  her 
time  between  the  young  people  and  her  cousin  Caro- 
line. Sometimes,  when  she  stayed  behind  and  from 
the  porch  waved  the  girls  and  Keith  off  for  a  picnic 
or  a  cruise,  April  knew  she  read  longing  in  her  face. 
April  thought  Mrs.  Meredith  very  tiresome  with  her 
everlasting  headaches  and  "nerves."  Queenie,  even 
when  she  had  been  very  sick,  had  never  been  fretful 


GULLFAXI  113 

and  peevish  like  Mrs.  Meredith.  April  wondered 
how  Miss  Lightwood  could  be  so  patient  and  content 
to  stay  behind  and  listen  to  Mrs.  Meredith's  whinings 
when  there  were  such  jolly  things  to  do  out-of-doors. 

"Just  think,  in  two  more  weeks  we'll  go  back  to 
Oakdale.  Who  ever  would  have  dreamed  that  the 
summeF  could  have  gone  so  quickly,"  exclaimed 
Chrissy,  as  she  and  Rose,  one  golden  morning, 
walked  down  the  path  which  led  from  Forest  Hill  to 
the  Cove. 

"It's  been  a  wonderful  summer,"  echoed  Rose, 
enthusiastically.  "I  shall  miss  the  ocean  when  we 
go  back  to  school." 

"You  goose !  As  though  you'd  have  time  there  at 
Oakdale  to  miss  anything.  There's  going  to  be  a 
new  French  teacher  this  year.  That  means  fan. 
You  can  always  rag  a  new  teacher." 

Rose  wanted  very  much  to  voice  a  protest  at  such 
a  thought,  but  she  had  not  the  courage.  She  knew 
that  Chrissy  would  laugh  at  her  and  call  her  ' Trudy." 
But  at  the  quiet  little  school  where  she  had  lived  her 
childhood  not  one  of  the  pupils  would  have  wanted  to 
rag  a  teacher. 

Chrissy,  unconscious  of  what  was  in  Rose's  mind, 

went  on:    "We  just  ragged  Fraulein  Frank  out  of 

the  school.     She  was  a  sniffly  sort,  anyway,  and  was 

,    always  running  to  the  Dowager  and  telling  tales. 

She  had  our  floor.    One  night  we  gave  her  a  ghost 


ii4  APRILLY 

party.  We  all  met  in  Dot  Myers'  room  with  sheets 
around  us  and  pillow  cases  over  our  heads,  and  then 
we  hid  behind  things.  We  giggled  just  as  loud  as 
we  could  and,  sure  enough,  in  a  moment,  pit-a-pat, 
came  Fraulein  down  the  hall.  Then  Dot  switched  off 
the  lights.  Just  as  Fraulein  opened  the  door  we  all 
jumped  out  at  her  with  the  awf  ulest  spooky  screeches, 
and  Floss  West  rattled  some  castanets  so's  to  sound 
like  bones.  Well,  say — "  Chrissy  had  to  pause  for 
laughter,  "we  finished  Fraulein  tliat  night.  She  had 
hysterics  and  they  had  to  call  the  nurse,  and  after  that 
she  refused  to  sleep  anywhere  but  in  the  little  alcove 
next  to  the  Dowager's  room.  And  the  next  term 
she  resigned." 

"But  didn't  they  do  anything  to  you  girls?"  asked 
Rose,  breathlessly. 

"By  the  time  the  Dowager  came  up  there  wasn't 
a  soul  in  Dot's  room,  and  they  found  Dot  sound 
asleep  in  Cally  Sandrock's  room,  where  she'd  gone 
to  spend  the  night  because  Cally  was  homesick.  She 
had  her  sheet  on  still,  but  the  Dowager's  near-sighted 
and  she  thought  it  was  her  nightie.  No  one  could 
find  out  who  the  ghosts  were  'cause  no  one  would 
tell.  The  Dowager  kept  us  in  all  day  Saturday,  but 
it  rained,  so  no  one  cared,  and  I  had  a  spifry 
book,  anyway." 

"  I'd  have  been  dreadfully  frightened,"  admitted 
Rose.  "I'd  hate  to  be  punished." 


GULLFAXI  115 

Chrissy  smiled  loftily.  "Oh,  when  you're  caught 
you  have  to  put  up  a  good  front — act  as  though  YOU 
didn't  care.  The  girls  think  more  of  you,  anyway, 
after  you've  been  called  down  before  the  Dowager. 
Of  course  you  can  be  a  grind,  but  no  one  thinks  much 
of  them.  They  just  dig  and  dig  and  don't  have 
any  fun." 

"But  they  learn  more,  don't  they?"  ventured 
Rose,  with  sudden  courage.  "And  Jane  Starr  was 
president  of  her  class  last  year  and  the  high  honor 
pupil — and  she  played  basketball  and  hockey." 

"Oh,  well,  some  of  them — "  But,  at  that  moment, 
Keith  hailed  them. 

"Where's  April?  Cap'n  Joe  says,  if  we  can  start 
soon,  he'll  take  us  over  to  Gull  Light !" 

School  and  the  approaching  school  days  were 
promptly  forgotten.  Rose  rushed  away  to  get  April 
while  Chrissy  turned  back  to  Forest  Hill  to  tell  her 
mother  where  they  were  going,  and  to  coax  a  lunch 
from  the  formidable  Higgins  who  held  sway  in 
the  kitchen. 

In  half  an  hour  the  young  people  were  sailing 
off  with  Cap'n  Joe.  Over  them  stretched  a  cloudless 
sky,  a  sapphire  sea  danced  about  them,  slapping 
saucily  at  the  sides  of  the  boat. 

"Say,  it's  good  to  be  alive  when  it's  like  this— • 
and  vacation !"  Like  the  girls  Keith  had  been  think- 
ing of  college,  which  he  would  enter,  in  two  weeks, 


n6  APRILLY 

as  a  freshman.  "Anyone  who  whispers  school  to- 
day's going  to  be  thrown  overboard."  The  three 
girls  echoed  his  threat — even  April,  for  deep  in  her 
heart  she  dreaded,  with  something  like  terror,  the 
"schoolin*  "  which  awaited  her  in  the  dingy  brick 
schoolhouse  near  the  Common. 

Gull  Light,  a  range  light  built  on  one  of  the  many 
islands  which  fringed  the  coast,  was  a  new  spot  of 
adventure  for  the  young  people.  Cap'n  Joe  knew  the 
lightkeeper,  and  a  word  from  him  gave  the  young- 
sters the  freedom  of  the  island.  They  spread  their 
lunch  on  some  lofty  rocks  facing  the  sea  and  ate  it 
to  the  last  crumb.  Then  they  joined  the  two  old 
mariners  in  the  little  whitewashed  cottage  next  to 
the  light  and  listened  while  the  two  matched  yarns. 

Keith  suggested  that,  on  the  homeward  trip,  they 
beach  at  the  lower  point  and  cut  home  across  the 
fields,  as  Cap'n  Joe  had  to  run  down  to  Kennebunk 
for  a  supply  of  oil.  To  this  the  girls  agreed.  The 
lower  point  lay  half  a  mile  beyond  Blossom;  a  tramp 
through  the  sweet-smelling  fields  would  be  a  pleasant 
finish  to  the  day's  fun. 

"I  think  this  picnic's  been  the  best  of  all,"  declared 
April,  with  a  tiny  sigh,  because  back  in  her  head  was 
the  thought  that  perhaps  it  was  the  last  picnic  of  the 
summer.  "Oh,  I  don't  know  what  I'm  going  to  do 
without  you  girls  and  Miss  Leila !" 


GULLFAXI  117 

"You  might  shed  a  tear  for  me,  too,  April," 
laughed  Keith. 

"Oh,  Keith,  I  always  think  of  you  as  one  of  the 
girls,"  whereupon  Keith  threatened  her  with  the 
picnic  basket  and  hotly  pursued  her  as  she  fled 
through  the  field  and  vaulted  the  fence  into  Lymus 
Lee's  pasture. 

"Call  me  a  sissy,  eh?  Take  it  back!  Take  it 
back!"  Keith  commanded,  holding  tight  to  April's 
wrist,  which  he  had  captured. 

"Take  back  nothing!"  April  dared,  tossing  her 
disheveled  red  head.  But  a  shrill  scream  from 
Chrissy  stayed  Keith's  punishment. 

"Look!  Look!  What  wit?  Oh,  Keith — "and 
Chrissy,  really  frightened,  pointed  her  finger  toward 
a  corner  of  the  pasture  where  a  horse  was  quietly 
grazing.  At  the  same  time  she  sought  the  protection 
of  Keith's  back. 

"You  silly,  that's  a  horse !" 

"Why,  it's  the  biggest  horse  I  ever  saw!"  cried 
Chrissy.  "It's  a — a  monster.  A  mastodon." 

The  horse,  hearing  voices,  had  lifted  his  head. 
He  was  big  and  the  more  startling  because  his  body 
was  snow  white  with  a  coal  black  head. 

"Isn't  he  funny?"  screamed  Rose,  safe  behind 
Keith,  too.  "He  looks  as  though  he  was  wearing 
another  horse's  head." 


n8  APRILLY 

"Or'd  put  his  head  in  a  tub  of  ink,"  laughed 
Chrissy. 

April  stood  a  little  apart  from  the  others,  staring. 
Where  had  she  seen  a  horse  like  that  before  ?  Sud- 
denly, with  a  sharp  contraction  of  the  heart,  she  re- 
membered Queenie,  riding  around  and  around  in  the 
ring  on  a  snow-white  steed  with  black  markings, 
while  she,  at  Claribel's  side,  watched  in  rapt 
admiration. 

"Oh—"  she  breathed,  softly. 

"I  know,"  cried  Keith.  "That's  Deacon  Lee's 
circus  horse.  I  heard  him  down  at  the  Post  Office 
the  other  night  bragging  because,  at  a  sale  down  in 
Boston,  he'd  found  a  broken  down  old  nag  that'd 
been  in  a  circus  and  he'd  bought  it  dirt  cheap.  Say, 
he's  a  grand  horse."  Keith  whistled.  "He  won't 
hurt  you,  'fraidy-cat,"  skilfully  dodging  the  hand 
Chrissy  flung  out  to  hold  him. 

"Broken  down  old  nag!"  April's  face  flushed  as. 
she  walked  across  the  pasture  toward  the  horse.  The 
horse,  doubtless  hopeful  of  a  friendly  lump  oi;  sugary 
was  advancing  slowly  to  meet  her.  Chrissy  and  Rose, 
with  little  squeals  of  alarm,  hung  back. 

"Gullfaxi!  Gullfaxi!"  whispered  April.  The 
horse  laid  his  velvety  nose  in  her  hand  and  sniffed. 
"Can't  you  tell  me  if  you're  Gullfaxi?  Can't  you 
just  nod  or — or  something?"  implored  April. 


GULLFAXI  119 

But  the  horse,  disappointed,  merely  lifted  his 
black  head  and  eyed  her  sorrowfully.  Whereupon 
April,  with  a  convulsive  movement,  buried  her  face 
in  his  thick  mane.  Keith,  at  her  side,  watched  her 
in  amazement. 

"I  thought — maybe — it  was — "  The  girl  stop- 
ped abruptly. 

"Do  you  like  horses,  April?  I  do — I'm  crazy 
about  'em.  I'll  bet  this  poor  old  fellow  hates  like 
everything  to  pull  old  man  Lee's  truck.  He's  seen 
better  days,  all  right.  What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

April's  face  glowed  with  sudden  inspiration.  She 
was  tearing  as  her  sneakers  and  stockings. 

"I'll  show  you !"  she  laughed.  Then,  barefooted, 
she  swung  herself  to  the  horse's  back.  Scarcely  had 
she  caught  the  heavy  mane  when  the  animal  broke 
into  an  easy  canter  around  and  around  the  pasture. 
While  Keith  and  Chrissy  and  Rose  stood,  breath- 
less, admiring,  fearful,  April  pirouetted  on  the 
horse's  back,  first  on  the  toes  of  one  foot,  then  of 
another;  with  airy  gestures  she  threw  kisses  to  right 
and  left  and  smiled  at  an  imaginary  audience.  Finally, 
with  a  tinkling  laugh,  she  turned  a  com- 
plete somersault! 

"Hurray!  Hurray!"  chorused  the  spectators. 
And  the  horse  tossed  his  black  head  in  the  air  as 
much  as  to  say  he  had  come  again  into  his  own. 

"Where  did  you  ever  learn  to  do  all  that?"  de- 


120  APRILLY 

manded  Chrissy  and  Rose,  in  one  voice,  when  April, 
quite  out  of  breath,  jumped  off  from  the  horse  and 
joined  them. 

"I — I — oh,  Marky  taught  me.  He  was — a  friend 
I  knew — once."  To  avoid  further  questioning  April 
turned  to  the  horse  and  threw  both  arms  around  the 
huge  neck.  "You're  a  darling.  Oh,  I  know  you're 
Gullfaxi.  For  you've  got  to  be.  I  love  you !"  she 
whispered  into  the  shaggy  mane.  "No  other  horse 
could  be  as  beautiful  as  you  are." 

"I  wish  /  could  do  a  stunt  like  that,"  mourned 
Chrissy,  still  staring,  round-eyed,  at  April. 
"Wouldn't  it  make  a  hit  at  school  ?"  She  regarded 
April  with  new  respect.  "If  I  were  you,  April 
Dangerfield,  I'd  go  on  the  stage — or  in  a  circus.  I 
wouldn't  waste  my  time  around  that  ridiculous  crab 
of  a  Deborah  Manny." 

April's  flushed  face  suddenly  dimpled.  "Miss 
Manny's  nice  even  if  she  is — cross.  But  if  we  don't 
hurry  home  she'll  be  fixing  a  funeral  wreath  for  me. 
Oh,  I'm  so  happy !  Didn't  I  say  this  was  the  nicest 
picnic?  Keith,  I'll  race  you  to  the  end  of  the  field  if 
you'll  just  wait  until  I  say  good-by  to  Gullfaxi." 

"To  whom?" 

"That's  what  I  shall  call  this  horse.  I  knew  one, 
once,  that  was  a  lot  like  him  and  his  name  was  Gull- 
faxi. I  shall  bring  Gullfaxi  a  lump  of  sugar  every 
single  day." 


'GULLFAXI,  Gullfaxi,"  w 


GULLFAXI  121 

"You  do  love  horses,  April !" 

April,  on  tiptoe,  was  whispering  into  the  horse's 
ear.  No  one  could  hear  her  nor  see  the  tears  she 
blinked  from  her  eyes.  "Good-by,  dear  old  Gull- 
faxi,  even  if  they  do  make  you  pull  a  horrid  old  truck 
April's  near  you  and  she'll  take  care  of  you." 

The  youngsters,  wearied  a  little  from  the  excite- 
ment of  the  performance  in  the  pasture,  slowly  saun- 
tered on  homeward  through  the  deep  grass  of  the 
fields.  April,  after  her  race  with  Keith,  grew  very 
quiet,  but  in  her  eyes  glowed  a  contented  happiness. 
She  had  found  an  old,  old  friend.  Like  herself,  he 
had  been  left  behind — forgotten.  But,  oh,  some- 
day, someday,  when  at  last  Toto  came,  she  would 
ask  him  if  they  might  take  Gullfaxi  back  with  them 
to  the  ring.  Broken  down  old  nag,  indeed!  If  it 
was  Gullfaxi. 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  FAIR 

"I'll  tell  anyone  I've  a  plan  that's  a  corker !  You'll 
get  all  the  credit,  Josh,  too,  and  it'll  make  this  county 
wake  up  to  the  fact  that  Blossom's  some  burg." 

Keith  and  Josh  Markham  were  lounging  in 
Keith's  motor  boat.  They  had  been  tinkering  with 
the  engine,  which,  to  Mrs.  Meredith's  relief,  refused 
to  run.  Josh  was  one  of  the  youths  of  Blossom 
"with  whom,"  to  use  Chrissy's  words,  "Keith  stooped 
to  run  around."  He  was  two  years  older  than  Keith, 
he  had  long  since  finished  his  schooling  and  now 
worked,  afternoons  and  evenings,  in  the  Emporium. 
With  his  face  and  throat  burned  to  a  copper  red,  his 
tousled  fair  hair  always  fringing  his  ears,  he  was  a 
comical  contrast  to  the  well-groomed  Keith, but  where 
Keith's  face  invariably  wore  an  indolently  happy  and 
care-free  expression,  Josh  Markham's  was  keen  and 
serious.  And,  at  the  moment,  his  spirit  was  weighted 
with  a  heavy  sense  of  responsibility.  In  a  week  the 
County  Fair  would  come  off  and  he  was  chairman  of 
the  program  for  Field  Day. 

For  everyone,  miles  around,  the  County  Fair  was 
quite  the  most  important  event  of  the  year.  Old 
ladies  and  young  ladies  spent  the  long  winter  months 

122 


THE  FAIR  123 

preparing  jellies  and  preserves  and  embroideries  to 
be  exhibited,  while  their  menfolk  looked  to  the  live 
stock,  with  many  a  dream  of  bringing  home  a  blue 
ribbon  to  adorn  a  box  stall.  And  the  Home  Field 
Day  was  the  best  day  of  the  week.  The  morning  was 
given  over  to  races  of  all  sorts,  with  prizes  for  the 
fleet  of  foot  and  quick  of  hand;  in  the  afternoon 
there  was  always  a  varied  program  made  up  of  the 
talent  of  the  towns  of  the  county.  The  last  year 
the  eighth  grade  of  the  Baytown  school  had  taken  the 
laurels  with  a  Dance  of  the  Fairies.  "Fairies,"  Josh 
Markham  had  snorted,  at  the  same  time  racking  his 
brain  to  think  what  Blossom  could  do,  this  year,  to 
make  the  poor  little  Baytown  fairies  look  like 
"thirty  cents." 

It  had  happened  that,  in  one  of  what  Keith  mod- 
estly styled  his  "rare  moments  of  profundity"  a  plan 
had  popped,  full-grown,  into  his  head.  It  was  with 
the  sole  desire  of  quickly  imparting  this  plan  to  Josh 
— so  that  no  time  might  be  lost — that  he  had  invited 
Josh  to  "take  a  look  at  his  darned  old  'bus."  His  plan 
had  grown  out  of  the  incident  in  Lymus  Lee's  pas- 
ture. April's  performance  had  greatly  excited  the 
girls  and  Keith.  For  the  girls  it  added  to  April's 
mysterious  charms.  More  than  once  they  had  re- 
marked on  April's  ease  of  manner  at  all  times;  not 
even  the  impressive  Higgins  had  awed  her.  Now 
added  to  this  was  this  rare  accomplishment.  They 


i24  APRILLY 

secretly  visioned  for  her  a  thrilling  future  far  from 
Blossom  and  Deborah  Manny  and  very  close  to  the 
world  of  moving  pictures.  But  Keith  wanted  to  bring 
her  talent  to  more  immediate  use. 

"It'll  be  as  easy  as  anything,"  he  finished.  "I'll 
ask  Lymus  Lee  for  his  horse  and  Chrissy  and  Rose'll 
help  fix  up  the  nag  to  look  like  something,  and  you 
see  if  it  doesn't  put  Blossom  on  the  map.  They've 
never  had  anything  like  it,  believe  me !" 

"But  will  April  do  it?"  asked  Josh. 

"Oh,  I  can  get  her,"  promised  Keith,  loftily. 

And  Keith  did.  He  knew  just  how  to  put  his 
appeal.  "Think  what  it'll  mean  to  that  old  horse  to 
get  into  the  ring  again.  Prob'bly  make  him  think  old 
times've  come  back.  And  I'll  stand  in  the  center  and 
crack  a  whip.  Oh,  boy,  won't  the  hicks  sit  up  and 
take  notice?" 

April  did  not  hear  the  last  of  Keith's  words. 
"What  it'll  mean  to  that  old  horse,"  rang  in  her  ears. 
Since  the  day  in  the  pasture  she  had  gone  about  with 
such  a  radiance  of  spirit  that  a  person,  given  greater 
powers  of  intuition  than  Deborah  Manny  possessed, 
might  have  guessed  that  she  carried  in  her  heart  a 
joyous  secret.  She  had  found  an  old  friend— even  if  it 
was  only  a  horse  who  could  not  tell  her  that  he  was 
Gullfaxi — a  friend  who  belonged  to  that  bright  and 
happy  past,  before  Queenie's  illness.  And  the  secret 
meant  more  to  her  because  the  silence  imposed  upon 


THE  FAIR  125 

her  by  Miss  Manny  had  seemed  to  shut  those  happy 
childhood  days  quite  away  from  her. 

"I'll  do  it,"  she  cried  impulsively. 

Only  once  did  it  occur  to  April  that  she  ought  to 
take  Miss  Manny  into  her  confidence;  that  was  when 
she  stole  to  the  attic  and  opened  the  old  trunk  into 
which  the  despised  "circus  fixin's"  had  been  thrown. 
But  Keith  had  said  it  must  all  be  kept  a  great  secret. 
Afterwards  she  would  explain  that  to  Miss  Manny 
if  Miss  Manny,  for  any  reason,  was  cross  about  it. 

When  the  eventful  afternoon  of  the  Field  Day 
arrived  thousands  thronged  the  fair-ground  and 
jammed  into  the  grandstand,  for  over  the  county 
had  spread  the  rumor  that  young  Meredith  and  Josh 
Markham  had  a  "surprise."  Miss  Manny  sat  primly 
in  the  third  row,  bowing  to  her  neighbors  with  a  new 
dignity  born  of  having  carried  off  the  honorable 
mention  with  her  gooseberry  preserve;  the  Sneeds 
sat  in  the  front  row;  Phoebe  King,  surrounded  by 
young  people,  sullenly  watched  from  a  back  row.  She 
secretly  cherished  a  fancy  for  Josh  Markham  and 
suffered  furious  jealousy  because  Josh  had  not  fea- 
tured her  on  his  program. 

At  the  end  of  his  program,  Josh,  resplendent  in 
the  Meredith's  chauffeur's  clothes,  a  long  whip  in  his 
hand,  came  into  the  field  before  the  grandstand,  and, 
in  stentorian  tones,  announced  that  the  "famous 
Mile.  Jacqueline  on  her  horse  Gullfaxi,"  would  next 


1*6  APRILLY 

appear.  In  the  stable  Keith,  a  little  sore  that  Josh 
had  appropriated  his  desired  job,  gave  an  encourag- 
ing flip  to  Gullfaxi's  panoplied  flank,  and  out  into  the 
ring  danced  April. 

Something  of  that  thrill  which  had  stirred  La 
Belle  Queen  in  those  happy  days  when  she  had  heard 
the  thunder  of  applause  above  the  blare  of  the  music, 
swept  April  now.  She  saw  only  a  blur  of  fantastic 
faces,  the  blue  of  the  sky  arching  overhead ;  she  heard 
only  the  din  of  the  band  imported  from  Portland.  In 
her  frilly,  knee-length  pink  skirts,  bare-armed,  bare- 
kneed,  her  red  hair  crowned  by  a  tinsel  wreath,  she 
made  a  picture  which  would  linger  long  in  more  than 
one  mind.  Inspired  by  the  applause,  she  rode  with  a 
grace  that  surpassed  even  Queenie's;  she  leaped  and 
pirouetted,  flung  kisses  to  right  and  left,  and,  while 
the  spectators  leaned  forward  in  breathless  expect- 
ancy, she  accomplished  the  famous  somersault  which, 
long  ago,  Marky  had  taught  her.  It  was  not  until  she 
had  circled  the  ring  for  the  third  time  that  the  Blos- 
som folk  recognized  her.  As  she  cantered  from  the 
field  the  loud  applause  gave  way,  slowly,  to  a  silence 
fraught  with  astonishment  and  disapproval. 

"Gee,  April,  you're  the  goods,"  cried  Keith, 
reaching  up  to  help  her  from  the  horse.  And  April, 
flushed  with  the  excitement  of  the  feat,  slipped  down 
into  his  arms.  In  an  instant,  with  a  laugh,  she  shook 
herself  free.  Outside  the  band  had  struck  up  "Good- 
night, ladies,"  with  cheerful  indifference  to  the  glow- 


THE  FAIR  127 

ing  afternoon  sun.  In  the  dusty  shed  that  served  for 
a  stable  Keith  and  April — and  Gullfaxi — were  alone, 

"Did  I  do  it  all  right?  I'd  have  hated  to  have 
made  a  failure  when  you  planned  it.  And,  oh,  it 
was  fun!" 

With  a  slight  motion  Keith  detained  her.  He 
talked  fast — in  a  moment  the  girls  would  join  them. 
"Say,  April,  I'm  going  away  tomorrow.  Got  to  go  a 
day  earlier  to  take  that  French  make-up.  I  hate  to 
go.  Going  to  miss  you  a  lot,  April,  honest.  You're 
such  fun,  you're  not  a  bit  Chrissy's  sort.  A  fellow 
gets  aw'fly  tired  of  that  kind,  you  know — they're  so 
silly,  but  you're — different."  In  Keith's  tone  there 
was  an  awkward  tenderness,  an  evident  desire  to  con- 
vey to  April  that,  no  matter  what  she  had  been  or 
where  she  had  come  from,  he,  Keith  Meredith, 
thought  a  great  deal  of  her. 

An  added  brightness  glowed  in  April's  face.  It 
was  nice  in  Keith  to  be  so  friendly.  She  felt  a  great 
desire  to  tell  him  about  Toto  and  Oueenie  and  the 
circus ;  she  knew  he  would  not  think  them  so  dread- 
ful !  But  there  was,  and  always  would  be,  her  promise 
to  Miss  Manny.  She  closed  her  lips  regretfully  on 
the  impulse.  Instead  she  put  her  hand  in  Keith's 
and  gave  his  a  little  squeeze. 

"I  hate  to  have  you  go  away,  too,  Keith.  I  hope 
you  have  all  kinds  of  luck.  And  I'm  glad — -you  like 
me.  And,  oh,  Keith,  do  you  s'pose  Gullfaxi  is  as 
happy  as  I  am?" 


CHAPTER  XII 
PAYING  THE  PIPER. 

It  seemed  to  Deborah  Manny,  as  she  made  her 
escape  from  the  Fair-ground,  that  a  thousand  eyes 
mocked  her ;  the  air  quivered  with  accusing  whispers ; 
fingers  of  scorn  pointed  at  her  from  above  and  below 
and  roundabout.  The  poor  woman  fled  without  her 
certificate  of  honorable  mention  which  for  two  gen- 
erations had  been  given  to  the  Manny  goose- 
berry preserve. 

Her  flight  was  not  so  rapid,  however,  as  to  let  her 
escape  several  of  her  neighbors  who  conveyed  to  her, 
with  scarcely  more  than  a  word  and  a  glance,  that 
they  considered  it  an  outrage  that  she,  Deborah 
Manny,  should  have  kept  such  a  girl  in  the  village. 

"And  not  told  a  soul  she  was  that  kind,"  was  the 
aggrieved  complaint. 

Deborah  turned  her  guilty  head  as  she  passed  the 
Baptist  church,  then  ran  straight  into  Jeremy. 
Jeremy's  face  was  wreathed  in  a  triumphant  grin. 

"Pretty  smart  comp'ny,  that  gal  o'  yours, 
Debory,"  he  called  out,  to  which  Deborah  only 
answered  with  a  meaning  grunt. 

April  had  flaunted  her  "circus  ways"  before  her 
and  before  all  Blossom!  Well,  a  Manny  knew  her 
128 


PAYING  THE  PIPER  129 

duty.  Those  ancestors,  who  had  doubtless  been  turn- 
ing and  turning  in  their  graves  near  St.  Stephen's 
(if  there  is  any  truth  in  the  old  saying),  would  see 
that  she,  Deborah  Manny,  could  do  what  was  right 
as  well  as  the  next  one. 

An  hour  later  April,  still  a-thrill  with  her  littla 
triumph,  danced  down  the  street  toward  home. 
Under  her  arm  she  carried  a  bundle  which  contained 
the  pink  skirt.  She  sang,  with  a  lilting  swing,  the 
hymn  she  had  learned  the  Sunday  before.  Her  world 
was  very  bright  and  happy ! 

But  the  Manny  house  wore  such  a  strangely  de- 
serted air  that  April  stopped  short  in  wonder.  What 
had  happened  ?  Every  blind  was  tightly  closed.  The 
door  was  closed.  There  was  not  a  sign  of  life  about 
the  place — as  though  suddenly  everything  within 
and  about  the  house  had  died ! 

April  stared,  then  advanced  slowly,  her  attention 
held  by  a  strange  object  on  the  porch — not  strange, 
either,  for  it  was  the  old  leather  bag  with  which  she 
had  escaped  from  No.  80  Fleming  Street. 

Kneeling  on  the  step  April  slowly  laid  her  hand 
upon  the  bag.  It  was  packed.  To  its  worn  handle 
had  been  fastened  an  envelope.  With  trembling 
fingers  the  girl  tore  it  open.  From  it  dropped  a  five- 
dollar  bank  note. 

The  glow  ebbed  from  April's  heart,  leaving  her 
icy  cold.  She  let  the  bank  note  flutter,  unnoticed,  to 
9 


i3o  APRILLY 

the  ground  while  she  spread  out  the  sheet  of  paper. 
Only  a  few  lines  were  written  upon  it;  more  sig- 
nificant, more  terrible  than  were  the  tightly  closed 
blinds,  the  locked  door. 

"I  don't  need  any  circus-girl  for  company  or  any- 
thing else  any  longer  when  you  don't  keep  your 
promise,"  was  all  that  Miss  Manny  had  written. 

April  stared,  dry-eyed,  first  at  the  letter,  then  at 
the  closed  door.  She  had  not  meant  to  break  her 
promise!  She  had  not  dreamed  that  her  little  per- 
formance would  mean  that  to  Miss  Manny!  If  only 
Miss  Manny  would  listen,  would  let  her  explain.  For 
an  instant  she  was  moved  to  knock  on  the  door,  to 
beg  to  go  in!  Only  for  an  instant,  however,  then 
pride  came  to  her  rescue.  Never,  never,  never  would 
she  ask  to  enter  that  door !  She  had  done  no  wrong, 
Miss  Manny  was  not  fair ! 

In  her  moment  of  bewilderment  and  dismay  April 
thought  not  of  Chrissy,  who  had  declared  her  won- 
derful, or  even  Miss  Light  wood — but  of  Michael 
Brown.  Picking  up  the  old  bag  she  walked  to  the 
gate,  turned  into  the  road  and  made  her  way  slowly, 
miserably,  to  the  Rectory. 

Overhead  birds  winged  gayly  in  the  arching 
treetops,  the  air  was  fragrant  with  the  sweetness  of 
ripening  things,  life,  in  its  beauty,  throbbed  every- 
where, yet  in  the  heart  of  April  had  been  killed  a 
precious  thing — a  trust,  a  faith  in  human  kindness. 


'  PAYING  THE  PIPER  131 

The  long  windows  of  the  Rectory  study  were 
open,  and  through  one  of  them  April  entered,  drag- 
ging her  bag  behind  her.  As  her  shadow  fell  across 
Michael  Brown's  desk,  where  he  sat  writing,  he  lifted 
his  head  quickly, 

"How  you  startled  me!  Witch!  Am  I  always 
to  have  you  come  upon  me  in  some  nerve-racking 
manner?"  Then  he  caught  the  desolation  of  the 
girl's  face,  noticed  the  bag.  "Why — what  has 
happened,  child?" 

A  dread  caught  at  April's  heart  and  made  speech 
impossible.  What  if  Michael  Brown  should  think  as 
Miss  Manny  had?  What  if  he  should  turn  her  away 
because  she  had  ridden  Gullf  axi  ? 

Rising,  Michael  Brown  crossed  the  room,  seized 
April's  two  hands  and  drew  her  to  a  chair. 

"Little  girl!  Little  girl!  We're  friends,  aren't 
we?  And  what  are  friends  for  if  they  are  not  to 
help  one  another !  Now,  out  with  it !  What  is  the 
meaning  of  all  this?  What  has  happened?" 

Two  bright  spots  of  color  flamed  in  April's 
cheeks.  "I — I — can't  tell  you  all,  'cause  I  promised 
Miss  Manny !  She  says  I  broke  my  promise  when  I 
rode  Gullfaxi  at  the  Fair.  But  I  didn't.  At  least  I 
didn't  mean  to !  And — and — when  I  went  home — the 
— the  door  was  locked — and  she  said — she  wrote — 
she  didn't  want  me  any  more.  I  had  to  go — some- 
where— so  I  came  here." 


i32  APRILLY 

Michael  Brown's  heavy  brows  drew  sharply  to- 
gether. He  gave  vent  to  a  queer  sound,  then,  jump- 
ing suddenly  to  his  feet,  he  paced  back  and  forth 
across  the  room.  As  suddenly  he  paused  and  con- 
fronted April 

"Turned  you  out?  Didn't  give  you  a  chance  to 
say  a  word?  I  heard  of  Keith's  plan — good  gracious, 
what  did  Miss  Manny  find  wrong  in  that!  I  call 
this  outrageous." 

"Well,  you  see — "  Poor,  bewildered  April  wanted 
to  be  fair,  "she  made  me  promise — when  she  let  me 
stay — that —  She  says  it's  wicked  to — to  do  things 
— like  that — like  I  did.  Oh,  I  guess  I'd  better  go 
away,  because  you'll  never  understand  and  I  can't 
tell  you!" 

The  woeful  voice  stirred  Michael  Brown  deeply. 
He  put  his  hand  under  April's  chin  and  lifted  her 
quivering  face. 

"No,  child,  you  shall  not  go  away.  I  have  always 
known  that  you  had  some  secret  locked  away  in  your 
heart.  Someday,  perhaps,  you  can  tell  me.  Until 
then  I  shall  take  you  on  trust  I  don't  think  you're 
wicked.  I  think  you're  a  sunny-hearted,  impulsive 
little  creature.  And  you've  been  knocked  rather 
cruelly  and  need  right  now  more  than  anything  else, 
a  whole  lot  of  kindness." 

April's  eyes,  like  twin  stars,  searched  Michael 
Brown's  face  with  intense  eagerness. 


PAYING  THE  PIPER  133 

"And  I  may  stay  ?  And  you  won't  think  Queenie 
and  Toto  wicked,  either?" 

"If  you  love  them,  April,  I  know  they  are  not 
wicked.  Put  these  bitter  thoughts  out  of  your  head. 
Tell  me  just  this,  child,  is  there  not  anyone  really  be- 
longing to  you  to  whom  you  can  go?" 

April  shook  her  head.  "Not  exactly — belonging. 
When  my  mother  died — I  sent  word  to  Toto — that's 
Toto  Conge,  but — but  he  hasn't  — answered — yet. 
But,  oh,  I  know  he  will  sometime."  She  drew  a  long, 
tremulous  sigh.  "Oh,  I  was  so  frightened.  But  if 
I  may  stay  here  I  will  be  ever  so  good  and  I'll  try 
to  help—" 

Michael  Brown  reached  for  the  old  bag.  "Come, 
let's  see  how  thick  the  dust  is  in  the  spare  room." 

It  was  a  very  big  room  and  very  stuffy ;  the  huge 
four-poster  bed  could  have  swallowed  three  little  girls 
such  as  April — but  to  poor  April  it  was  a  beautiful 
haven.  As  her  eyes  swept  its  dust  and  disorder  her 
mind  leaped  ahead  to  all  that  she  would  do  to  make 
Michael  Brown's  house  clean  and  sweet  like 
Miss  Manny's! 

But,  alas,  that  very  resolve  was  to  be  her  undoing. 

During  the  days  which  followed  poor  Michael 
Brown  found  that  it  was  not  a  simple  matter  to  give 
refuge  to  a  homeless  little  girl  who  could  perform 
marvelous  feats  bareback.  He  was  not  blind  to  the 
disapproving  glances  cast  in  his  direction  nor  to  the 


i34  APRILLY 

buzz  of  whispering  which  followed  him  wherever 
he  went.  He  guessed,  rightly,  that  all  Blossom  was 
agog  over  what  had  happened.  Therefore  he  was 
somewhat  prepared  for  the  visit,  a  few  days  later, 
from  two  of  his  vestrymen. 

Darius  Camp,  who,  because  of  his  age  and  promi- 
nence in  the  village,  acted  as  spokesman,  with  much 
clearing  of  his  throat  and  more  hesitation  than  was 
usual  with  him,  intimated  to  Michael  Brown  that 
the  vestrymen  of  St.  Stephen's  and  the  deacons  of 
the  Baptist  Church  felt  it  urgent  that  "this  Danger- 
field  girl"  be  sent  away  from  Blossom! 

"Everybody  in  the  hull  County  knows  what  she 
done  at  the  Fair !  And  not  a  one  of  us  knows  who 
she  is!  Debory  Manny  did  just  right!  *  *  * 
We  can't  have  our  young  folks  hurt  *  *  *" 

Michael  Brown,  standing  straight  and  tall  before 
his  visitors,  his  face  carefully  averted  that  they 
might  not  see  its  black  look  before  he  managed  to 
control  it,  had  a  sudden  picture  of  "the  Dangerfield 
girl"  as  he  found  her,  half  an  hour  before — curled 
in  a  deep  arm-chair,  sound  asleep,  an  old  volume  of 
Pilgrim's  Progress  across  her  lap,  one  hand  on  the 
open  page,  her  head  bent  against  the  wing  of 
the  chair. 

"Gentlemen!"  Michael  Brown  broke  in  so  sud- 
denly that  his  callers  stared,  open-mouthed,  "It's 
only  a  waste  of  your  time — and  Deacon  Lee's — to 


PAYING  THE  PIPER  135 

say  another  word !  I  refuse  to  send  the  girl  away — 
at  least  until  I  have  found  a  proper  place  for  her  to 
go.  .Why,  you  wouldn't  turn  a  dog  out  the  way 
Deborah  Manny  dismissed  this  child!  What  would 
have  become  of  her — where  could  she  have  gone? 
You  men  have  hearts — you,  Camp,  have  a  girl  of 
your  own,  tell  me  this,  could  I  have  faced  you  all,  as 
your  spiritual  leader  if  I  had  so  failed  in  God's 
Charity  and  Love  as  to  have  sent  her  away  from  my 
door?  I  say  not — "  he  stopped  abruptly,  a  fury  at 
the  injustice  of  prejudice  choking  his  thoughts.  "I 
promise  you  that  the  young  people  of  Blossom  will 
not  be  hurt  in  any  way!  I  must  ask  you  to  have 
confidence  in  me."  His  voice  dropped  to  an  appealing 
note — to  defy  his  own  congregation  would  not  help 
poor  little  April. 

Afterward  Darius  Camp  admitted  to  his  col- 
league that  he  "had  a  sight  more  respect  for  the 
young  minister  for  standin'  up  to  them!  Guess  if 
it'd  been  my  Susie  I'd  wanted  someone  to  give  her  a 
helpin'  hand  'stead  of  a  knock  or  a  kick.  The  world's 
a  pretty  hard  place,  and  lots  of  men  are  hard,  too — I 
don't  mind  bein'  the  one  to  tell  Deacon  Lee  *  *  *" 

"Debory  Manny  had  no  business  bringin*  her 
here  first  place,"  the  other  agreed.  "Only — what'll 
ever  the  minister  do  with  her  ?" 

The  same  question  tormented  Michael  Brown 
when  upon  the  heels  of  the  vestrymen  came  Mrs. 


I36  APRILLY 

Prowett,  garbed  in  her  best  black  silk  dress  and  bon- 
net to  "give  notice." 

"I've  kept  house  for  three  ministers  and  I've 
served  the  Lord  the  best  way  I  know  how,  but  He  or 
nobody  else'd  want  me  to  put  up  with  all  I've  put  up 
with,  these  three  days,  when  I  don't  have  to,  for  Silas 
Prowett's  aunt  at  Portland's  wanted  me  to  go  there 
to  live  with  her  for  five  years,  only  duty's  duty  and 
I've  stayed  here — " 

"But  what's  wrong?"  begged  Michael  Brown. 

"Wrong?  That  girl!  She's  a  cleanin',  cleanin', 
cleanin',  every  which  way  and  all  over  and  upsettin' 
things  and  talkin'  'bout  making  things  ship-shape. 
She  learned  that  talk  over  at  Debory  Manny's.  I've 
known  this  long  while  that  Debory  Manny's  jealous 
of  me  and  saying  this  and  that  about  me  being  a  poor 
housekeeper !  That's  'cause  she's  a  Baptist.  I  admit 
I  never  was  as  fanaticy  'bout  dust  as  she  is,  but  you 
can  always  find  things,  and  that's  more  than  you'll  do 
if  this  girl  goes  'long — " 

Michael  Brown  wisely  controlled  a  desire  to 
laugh ;  Mrs.  Prowett  in  her  best  black  and  her  indig- 
nation was  a  very  threatening  person! 

"Won't  you  sit  down  and  talk  this  over?"  he 
asked,  in  a  conciliatory  tone. 

"No,  beggin'  your  pardon,  sir,  I  "won't  sit  down. 
And  more'n  that — "  she  had  caught  the  gleam  in  his 
eyes,  "you  may  think  this  is  a  funny  matter,  but  7  say 


PAYING  THE  PIPER  137 

right  now  you  choose  between  that  piece  and  me !  If 
she  stays  /  go  to  Portland." 

"But  what  shall  I  do  with  her?" 

Mrs.  Prowett's  expression  said,  just  as  Deacon 
Lee  and  others  had  said:  "Run  her  out  of  town." 
However,  her  lips  closed  on  the  words. 

"That's  Debory  Manny's  business.  She  brought 
her  here.  Let  her  clean  someone  else's  house  if  she's 
so  bent  on  the  idee !  Only,  if — she — stays — " 

There  was  no  doubt  but  that  Mrs.  Prowett  meant 
it — her  black  dress  spoke  volumes.  Michael  Brown's 
face  wrinkled  into  countless  creases.  He  could  not 
; — just  now — lose  Mrs.  Prowett,  tiresome,  cranky, 
shiftless  though  she  was ! 

Not  until  he  had  promised  her  to  send  April 
away,  somewhere,  the  next  day  did  she  soften !  Then 
she  left  him  to  his  perplexing  thoughts.  What  could 
he  do  with  the  child? 

Far  into  the  night  he  paced  the  garden  path, 
puffing  on  his  pipe  and  pondering  over  the  little  he 
could  guess  concerning  April's  past  life  and  all  that 
he  knew  of  her  since  her  coming  to  Blossom.  The 
velvety  blackness  of  the  night,  its  mute  sounds, 
weirdly  affected  his  fancy — he  felt  that  he  stood 
alone  with  the  fate  of  a  human  being  in  his  hand — 
his  action  to  make  or  destroy  a  little  soul.  Deep  in 
his  heart  remained  the  conviction  that  April's  life, 
almost  up  to  her  coming  to  Blossom  had  been  curi- 


i38  APRILLY 

ously  sheltered.  What  turn  of  the  Wheel  of  Destiny 
had  thrown  her  friendless,  upon  a  hard  world? 
Where  were  the  Toto  and  Queenie  of  whom  she 
spoke  so  fondly?  Why  had  Miss  Manny  extorted  a 
promise  of  silence  from  the  child?  Ought  he  to  go 
to  Miss  Manny  and  try  to  persuade  her — oh,  no,  no—- 
Suddenly into  his  disturbed  reflections  flashed 
the  thought  of  Leila  Light  wood. 

"Just  the  one!  She'll  fix  everything,"  he  said 
aloud.  Then,  his  load  of  worry  lifted,  he  gave  a  pro- 
digious yawn  and  discovered  that  he  was  very, 
very  sleepy. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WlNDOVER 

Directly  after  a  hasty  breakfast,  Michael  Brown 
went  in  search  of  Leila  Lightwood.  He  found  her, 
not  at  Forest  Hill,  but  at  the  Windover  cottage, 
which  she  excitedly  explained  to  him,  she  had  leased 
for  the  winter.  A  fancy,  seizing  her  "between  mid- 
night and  morn,"  had  led  her  to  take  this  step  in  spite 
of  the  horror  of  Cousin  Caroline  and  even  Cap'n  Joe 
Merry,  the  owner. 

"You  see  the  cottage  is  haunted,"  she  added.  In 
her  linen  smock,  much  rumpled  by  her  morning's 
work,  she  looked  like  an  eager  young  girl.  "But  all 
my  life  I've  wanted  to  live  in  a  haunted  house.  Cap'n 
Joe,  bless  his  honest  old  soul,  thought  he  ought  to 
tell  me  that,  sometimes  when  the  wind  blows, 
Ephraim  Blossom  and  his  bride  whisper  by  the  fire- 
side. Why  shouldn't  they  ?  I  love  the  dear  old  cot- 
tage all  the  more  because  their  loving  spirits  brood 
over  it!  I'll  tell  you  the  real  reason,  though.  I'm 
trying  to  finish  a  manuscript — I  haven't  done  a 
blessed  thing  at  Forest  Hill  and  I  can't  bear  to  go 
back  to  the  city.  Funny  about  a  city,  isn't  it  ?  You 
can  always  feel  its  fingers  grip  and  hold  you.  But 
here  at  Windover  I'm  mistress  of  my  soul.  And 

139 


i/jo  APRILLY 

I've  spent  the  summer  steeped  in  such  demoralizing 
luxury  that  I  need  cold  rooms  and  sharp  winds  to 
whip  me  back  into  condition.  But,  a  thousand  par- 
dons, Micky!  I'm  chattering  on  without  letting 
you  tell  me  why  you  've  honored  me  with  a  call  at  this 
hour  of  the  morning." 

In  a  few  words  Michael  Brown  told  her  of  his 
perplexing  situation.  Miss  Lightwood  had  heard 
that  April  had  gone  to  the  Rectory. 

"It  is  like  you,  Micky,  to  take  the  child  in  and 
then  stand  by  your  guns  with  those  old  fogies.  Oh, 
don't  beetle  your  brows — I  shall  call  them  fogies, 
stupid,  smug,  too.  So  is  Deborah  Manny  with  her 
priggish  littleness!  But  Mrs.  Prowett — you  can't 
have  a  row  with  her  just  now.  That  poor  youngster, 
she  must  come  to  me,  here  at  Windover." 

"I  knew  you'd  say  that,"  cried  the  young  man. 
"If  you'll  keep  her  for  a  while,  anyway  until  we  can 
plan  what  is  best  to  do  for  her.  We'll  have  to  take 
her  on  trust,  too,  because  Miss  Manny  has  made  her 
give  some  sort  of  a  promise  that  she  will  not  tell 
anything  about  herself.  I'll  not  believe  that  Miss 
Manny  knows  anything  very  bad  about  April — 
she's  impulsive  and  as  changeable  as  her  name,  but 
she's  a  mighty  wholesome  little  kiddie — more  so  than 
most  of  them — " 

"And,"  added  Miss  Leila,  laughing  at  his  awk- 
ward effort  to  express  himself,  "she  has  a  charm  of 
her  own  which  goes  way  ahead  of  the  very  modern 


WINDOVER  141 

and  affected  mannerisms  of  my  own  cousin  Chrissy 
Meredith.  And  I'll  add,  too,  that  April  has  a  curi- 
ously worth-while  education.  Oh,  she  couldn't  pass 
an  examination,  but  I'd  say  someone  who  loved  her 
very,  very  much  had  bothered  a  lot  to  teach  her  every- 
thing. I'll  tell  you  the  little  I  know  of  April — before 
she  came  here,  I  saw  her  first,  over  a  year  ago,  at 
the  Copley-Plaza,  a  big-eyed  little  girl,  thin  and  over- 
dressed, in  the  charge  of  a  young  woman  who  was 
either  a  nurse  or  a  governess.  I'm  always  bored  to 
death  when  I  have  to  live  in  a  hotel,  and  lonely,  too, 
and  the  child  attracted  me.  She  seemed  like  a  bit  of 
a  sunbeam  shut  in  away  from  her  sister  sunbeams. 
I  did  the  usual  thing — pumped  the  chambermaid 
about  her.  She  said  the  child  was  the  daughter  of  an 
'actress  or  something/  who  was  ill.  You  can 
imagine  my  surprise,  almost  a  year  later,  to  find  her 
here  in  Blossom,  apparently  friendless  and  penniless. 
She  has  told  me  her  mother  died.  But  don't  you  see 
where  Miss  Manny's  conscience  has  been  strained? 
Undoubtedly  it's  the  'actress  or  something/  " 

"Who  must  be  Queenie,"  pondered  Michael 
Brown. 

"Someday  April  will  tell  us  all  about  it.  Until 
then  she  shall  stay  with  me  here  in  Windover.  Oh, 
we'll  be  as  happy  as  happy  as  can  be.  I  call  it 
the  best  sort  of  fortune.  I  was  dreading  having 
the  young  people  go  off  to  school — I'm  always 


i42  APRILLY 

hungry  for  young  life  around  me.  Unless 
you're  ashamed  of  me  in  this  disreputable  blouse, 
I  sugg-est  that  I  ride  home  with  you  and  bring 
April  straight  back  here.  Then  she'll  have  the 
fun  of  helping  me  to  get  settled.  Isn't  this  the 
quaintest  love  of  an  old  place?"  She  nodded  to  the 
narrow,  low-ceilinged  room.  "I  wouldn't  let  Cap'n 
Joe  move  a  bit  of  the  'truck,'  as  he  called  it.  It  would 
be  an  insult  to  the  place  to  bring  modern  things  in 
here.  We  can  even  cook  on  that  crane  over  the  fire- 
place— at  least  until  Judy  comes.  Judy  is  going  to 
be  my  one  concession  to  my  spoiled  self.  Now,  shall 
we  go?" 

Half-way  to  the  Rectory  Michael  Brown  brought 
his  car  almost  to  a  stop.  "Say,  Leila,  couldn't  you 
manage  to  make  the  child  believe  you  needed  her  at 
Windover  ?  I  can't  bear  to  have  her  know  that  Camp 
came  to  see  me  or  that  Mrs.  Prowett  made  a  row. 
She's  so  young  to  be  hurt  by  these  people." 

Leila  Lightwood  leveled  misty  eyes  on  the  man's 
earnest  face.  "Oh,  Micky,  you're  the  same,  tender- 
hearted boy !  Do  you  remember  when  you  ate  poor 
old  Aunt  Selina  Tewksbury's  pie,  into  which  she'd 
put  pepper  instead  of  nutmeg,  because  you  couldn't 
bear  to  hurt  her  feelings  ?  And  the  rest  of  us  laughed 
when  you  choked.  And  that  time  you  found  the 
pheasant  with  the  wing  shot  away  and  you  threw 
your  new  gun  down  the  ravine?  Dear,  dear,  you're 


WINDOVER  143 

so  big  now,  and  you  have  such  a  very  firm  chin  that 
you're  alarming,  and  you're  a  minister,  but  I'm  glad 
to  find  the — soft  spots.  Yes,  I'll  tell  April  that  I've 
come  to  kidnap  her!" 

Miss  Leila  had  to  plead  desperately  before  she 
could  persuade  April  to  leave  the  Rectory.  April's 
heart  was  very  set  on  her  secret  mission  of  house- 
cleaning  which  had  had  disappointing  setbacks 
through  that  "cross,  horrid  old  Mrs.  Prowett."  But 
Miss  Lightwood  told  her  of  the  funny  little  rooms 
at  Windover,  of  the  wooden  settle  before  the  fire- 
place, of  the  assortment  of  queer,  old  dishes  in  rows 
behind  the  wooden  doors  of  the  cupboards,  of  the 
small-paned  windows  with  their  deep  sills.  "We'll 
have  pink  geraniums  in  each  window,  and  Cap'n 
Joe's  going  to  let  me  have  one  of  his  puppies  and  we'll 
have  a  kitten,  too.  And  you  may  help  me  in  my 
work.  Why,  April,  I  need  you!"  The  last  words 
were  uttered  with  such  convincing  earnestness  that 
April  yielded. 

"Will  I — have — to  go  to — school?"  she  asked. 

Miss  Leila  and  Michael  Brown  exchanged 
glances.  Each  read  the  other's  thought.  "No,  in- 
deed. At  least,  not  this  winter.  I'll  teach  you." 

"And  I'll  help.  It'll  do  my  sermons  good  to  brush 
up  a  little  on  my  A  B  C's." 

April's  face  brightened  in  a  way  it  had  not  since 
she  left  Miss  Manny's.  "Oh,"  she  cried,  "I  thought 


144  APRILLY 

I  was  never  going  to  be  really,  truly  happy  again. 
How  I  love  you  both !  And  I'll  go  and  put  my  things 
in  my  bag.  That  poor  bag — "  she  laughed  as  she  ran 
from  the  room. 

"Micky,  have  you  ever  thought  that,  after  all, 
it's  the  youngsters  who  keep  this  old  world  going 
straight?  For  when  our  littlest  act  affects  a  child, 
well,  the  most  heedless  of  us  act  more  carefully.  And 
when  they  love  us —  Why,  didn't  Miss  Manny  ap- 
preciate at  all  that  child's  affection?" 

"Not  when  in  the  balance  with  the  good  opinion 
of  her  neighbors." 

"Good  opinion  of  her  neighbors!"  Miss  Leila 
snapped  her  fingers  scornfully.  "What  does  that 
opinion  amount  to  when  it  changes  like  the  wind.  Of 
course  I'm  not  as  tolerant  as  you  are.  I  shall  tuck 
April  away  from  them  all  there  at  Windover,  and 
they  shall  not  have  a  chance  to  stare  and  put  their 
smug  heads  together  and  whisper.  Sh-h!"  She 
lifted  a  worning  hand  to  silence  Michael  Brown's 
answer.  April  was  running  down  the  stairs,  singing. 

Though  she  had  often  picniced  with  the  Mere- 
diths on  the  Point  and  near  the  old  Lighthouse,  April 
had  never  been  inside  of  the  little  cottage.  For  that 
reason,  when  she  arrived  with  Miss  Lightwood,  her 
curiosity  was  at  a  high  pitch — the  more  so  because 
the  quaint  old  place  was  to  be  her  home,  hers 
and  Miss  Leila's. 


WINDOVER  145 

"Oh,  isn't  it  the  j oiliest  little  house?  Look,  I  can 
almost  touch  the  ceiling!  And  these  darling  win- 
dows. You  can't  see  anything  but  the  ocean.  It's 
as  though  you  were  miles  and  miles  away  from  Blos- 
som, isn't  it  ?  I  shall  hate  to  go  to  bed  for  fear  I'll 
wake  up  and  find  that  none  of  this  is  true — that  I'm 
back  at  Miss  Manny's  or — or  that  dreadful  place 
in  Boston." 

Miss  Leila  suddenly  cuddled  the  girl  in  her  arms. 
"April,  dear,  this  is  your  real,  true  home !  You're 
going  to  make  me  happy  and  I  want  to  make  you 
happy.  And  I  want  to  help  you,  too.  We'll  work  as 
well  as  play.  But  while  we  have  these  golden  days — 
let's  just  play!  When  my  boxes  come  from  New 
York  will  be  time  enough  to  settle  down.  See,  you 
shall  have  this  snug  little  room  next  to  mine." 

The  "snug  little  room"  opened  from  a  larger 
room  which  adjoined  the  living  room.  Miss  Leila's 
eyes  swept  its  bare  furnishings  with  a  disapproving 
glance.  "We'll  have  to  brighten  this  up  a  bit  for  you. 
Some  blue  check  curtains  at  that  window  and  my 
blue  lily  quilt — " 

"/  like  it,"  cried  April,  "because  it's  close 
to  you!" 

"Leave  your  bag  here,  child,  and  come  with  me 

out-of-doors.     On  a  day  like  today  I  want  to  be  a 

gypsy.     We  cut-after-the-same-pattern  folks  do  not 

know  how  to  enjoy  just  living.    Let's  clear  up  those 

10 


146  APRILLY 

neglected  flower  beds.  Then  we'll  put  in  some  bulbs. 
I  have  a  notion  that  little  Priscilla  Blossom  had 
flowers  everywhere.  .We'll  restore  Windover.  And 
some  night  next  spring  when  the  first  crocus  peeps, 
we'll  hear  Priscilla  whisper  to  Ephraim  that  her 
flowers  are  going  to  bloom  again.  Come  along, 
little  sister." 

Grubbing  with  Leila  in  the  old  flower-beds,  tug- 
ging at  weeds,  softening  earth,  clipping  here  and 
transplanting  there,  with  the  golden  sun  beating 
down  upon  her  and  the  sweet  sea-winds  from  over 
the  Point  whipping  her  blood,  April  found  the  sting 
of  Miss  Manny's  wrath  vanish  as  though  by  magic. 
Perhaps  Miss  Leila  had  wisely  planned  the  magic! 
Forest  Hill  was  closed  now,  the  girls  were  back  at 
Oakdale,  Mrs.  Meredith,  and  her  retinue  of  servants, 
had  returned  to  New  York.  Except  for  the  daily 
visit  of  Jeremy  and  Chubbs,  the  grocery  boy,  and 
old  Cap'n  Joe  Merry,  Miss  Leila  and  April  followed 
their  gypsy  ways  undisturbed. 

With  Miss  Leila's  boxes  came  Judy.  Miss  Leila 
explained  to  April  that  Judy  had  taken  care  of  her 
since  she  was  a  little  girl.  She  thinks  she  rules  me 
with  a  rod  of  iron,  and  I  let  her  think  so  because  she 
is  the  only  bit  of  "home"  I  have.  But  she  has  a  soft 
heart,  and  if  you  show  her  that  you're  fond  of  her 
you  can  twist  her  around  your  little  finger." 


WINDOVER  147 

Judy  was  too  accustomed  to  Miss  Leila's  whim- 
sical ways  to  express  aloud  her  opinion  of  the  cot- 
tage. Had  she  not  followed  her  mistress  all  over  the 
globe?  She  took  command  in  the  kitchen  with  the 
air  of  one  determined  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  thing 
and  ever  hopeful  of  returning  someday  (if  they  were 
not  blown  clean  into  the  ocean)  to  sane  living  in 
a  steam-heated  apartment  with  electricity  and 
an  incinerator. 

The  boxes  contained  Miss  Leila's  treasures, 
without  which,  she  said,  she  could  not  live  anywhere ; 
a  few  pictures,  beautiful  bits  of  old  tapestries,  two 
or  three  delicate  vases,  an  old  Italian  writing-desk, 
inlaid  with  mother-of-pearl  and  in  which  there  was 
a  secret  cubby  for  love-letters.  Miss  Leila  explained 
that  it  had  belonged  to  a  Milanese  poetess  of  the 
seventeenth  century. 

"We  must  tuck  these  things  away  where  they  will 
not  offend  the  precious  belongings  of  Windover," 
and  Miss  Leila,  with  amazing  skill,  contrived  to  do 
so.  "Not  for  worlds  would  I  have  the  feelings  of 
that  blessed  old  armchair  over  there  hurt  the  least 
little  bit/'  While  they  were  at  work  unpacking  the 
boxes  Miss  Leila  told  April  interesting  stories  of  the 
treasures  they  unpacked,  of  incidents  that  had  hap- 
pened on  her  many  wanderings,  of  beauties  of  other 
lands.  She  spoke  of  an  intimate  acquaintance  with 
the  great  artist  who  had  painted  the  original  of  the 


i48  APRILLY 

small  picture  she  held  in  her  hand,  with  the 
sculptor  who  had  moulded  the  exquisite  figure  of 
the  ''Wind-child." 

One  box  Miss  Leila  laid  across  April's  lap  with 
the  laughing  expression  that  its  contents  were  hers. 
"Nothing  much — "  she  hastened  to  add. 

Upon  lifting  the  cover  April  discovered  the 
"nothing  much"  to  be  several  pretty  dresses,  with 
additional  wearing  apparel  of  such  daintiness  of 
texture  as  to  make  her  gasp. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  her  eyes  shining,  "these  are 
lovely  like — like — "  She  was  going  to  say :  "I  used 
to  have."  "But  I  ought  not —  These  must  have 
cost  a  great  deal  of  money." 

"Tut,  tut!  Not  a  word,  Aprilly-mine.  I  can't 
have  you  going  around  shivering  and  naked,  can  I  ? 
And  I  can't  bear  to  have  you  look  like  Deborah 
Manny  made-over.  I'm  only  really  pleasing  myself. 
After  all,  they're  just  pretty  and  practical.  Run 
away,  now,  and  put  on  that  brown  dress.  With  your 
red  hair  you  ought  never  to  wear  anything  but  brown 
with  a  suggestion  of  gold  in  it." 

As  the  weeks,  full  of  work  and  play,  passed, 
April,  like  a  sheltered,  sun-warmed  flower,  in  the 
loving  atmosphere  of  Windover,  grew  and  de- 
veloped. There  were  lessons,  given  with  delightful 
irregularity,  and  books,  for  Miss  Leila  had  a  fresh 
instalment  each  week  from  Boston,  so  that  no  one 


WINDOVER  149 

cared  how  long  a  storm  raged  outside.  When  Miss 
Leila  was  working  over  the  last  pages  of  the  mys- 
terious and,  to  April,  awe-inspiring  manuscript, 
April  sat  with  Judy  in  the  sunny  kitchen  or  raced 
with  Frisk,  the  puppy,  over  the  Point.  Michael 
Brown  dropped  in  often  for  tea,  or  supper,  as  Miss 
Leila  declared  it  must  be  called,  out  of  respect  to 
Windover.  While  the  three  sat  before  the  huge  fire- 
place he  and  Miss  Leila  mapped  out  terrible  ad- 
ventures for  April  in  geometry  and  Caesar.  "She's 
just  eaten  her  algebra,  she  loves  it  so!"  tormen  ed 
Miss  Leila. 

Once  Michael  Brown  touched  gravely  on  April  s 
future.  April  was  drying  dishes  for  Judy,  who  ha  \ 
the  "rheumatisms." 

"Oh,  Micky,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  training  her 
to  teach  or  nurse — or  something  very  sensible !  But 
I  can't  resist  just  letting  her  do  what  she  wants,  for 
this  winter,  anyway.  She's  such  a  child.  And  she 
has  such  an  extraordinary  way  of  being  very  happy 
when  she  is  happy !  I  want  to  learn  the  secret  of  her 
gift.  And  I  believe  there's  a  way  of  putting  rt  to 
good  use  in  this  world.  Too  few  of  us  have  it.  Let's 
wait  a  little  while  before  we  plan  seriously." 

With  her  heart  so  full  of  gratitude  and  content- 
ment April  could  not  cherish  resentment  toward  Miss 
Deborah.  Occasionally,  through  Jeremy  or  the  gro- 
cery boy,  some  word  came  to  Windover  concerning 


ISO  APRILLY 

Miss  Deborah;  she  had  sold  her  orchard  strip,  she 
had  shingles,  she  had  refused  flatly  Mrs.  Cox's  offer 
to  let  her  Sally  come  and  stay  nights  with  her,  she 
was  "more  cantankerous"  than  ever. 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Aprilly-mine,"  chal- 
lenged Miss  Leila,  one  frosty  evening  when  the  two 
sat  dose  to  the  leaping,  crackling,  drift-wood  fire  at 
Windover.  "Whither  are  they  roaming?" 

"I  was  wondering  if  Miss  Manny,  maybe,  isn't 
lonesome.  Of  course  I  don't  mean  she  misses  me — 
but  it  must  be  dreadful  to  live  all  alone!  And  she 
just  has  those  waxy,  dead  flowers — " 

"April,  wouldn't  it  be  fun  to  'send  Miss  Manny 
some  orders?" 

"What  do  you  mean?  How  could  we.  She'd 
know  and  she  wouldn't — " 

"But  we  won't  let  her  know.  I'll  write  to  Boos- 
ing Brothers,  they  are  art  collectors  in  Boston,  and 
ask  them  to  place  the  orders,  say  one  each  fortnight. 
We'll  have  a  few  wreaths  and  then  a  'piece*  and — 
what  else  does  she  do  well?" 

"Oh,one  that  says 'Our  Darling.' It's  beautiful—" 

"By  all  means  we  must  have  'Our  Darling.'  I'll 
write  to  them  to-night." 

"But  won't  they  cost  a  lot?" 

"They'll  be  worth  it  if  they'll  bring  Miss  Manny 
contentment.  I'm  heaping  coals  of  fire — for  you. 
There,  you  needn't  ask  me  what  I  mean.  April,  I'm 


WINDOVER  151 

foolishly  rich,  I  say  foolishly  because  no  one  deserves 
to  be  poor  more  than  I  do !  And  I  like  to  spend  my 
money  in  ridiculous  ways.  Besides,  I'm  in  Miss 
Manny's  debt.  It's  a  secret.  I've  put  her  in  my 
book."  Miss  Leila  nodded,  laughingly,  toward  her 
desk.  "She  won't  recognize  herself — at  least  I  hope 
she  won't,  but  she's  there  and  she  just  makes 
the  book." 

The  orders  were  placed  with  Boosing  Brothers, 
and  early  in  January  began  to  arrive  at  Windover. 
Miss  Leila  and  April  had  many  a  laugh  over  the  huge 
cardboard  boxes  which  came  by  parcel  post.  They 
examined  the  wreaths  and  pieces,  then  put  them  care- 
fully away  in  the  oak  chest  Ephraim  Blossom  had 
built  for  the  treasures  of  his  young  bride. 

"Think  how  busy  Miss  Manny  must  be — and 
excited,"  laughed  April  while  they  were  hiding  the 
last  consignment  of  a  "piece."  And,  a  few  days 
later,  word  came  to  them  that  Sally  Cox  was  staying 
nights  with  Miss  Manny  and  "helping  out"  three 
days  a  week. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
AT  THE  SUGAR  BOWL 

As  the  winter  passed  Blossom  had  gradually  far- 
gotten  April's  performance  at  the  Fair.  Indeed,  but 
for  Miss  Manny,  they  might  have  forgotten  it  in  the 
proverbial  nine  days.  Gossip  had  smacked  its  lips 
much  more  over  the  interesting  fact  that  Deborah 
Manny  had  "shut  the  door  in  that  girl's  face"  than 
that  April,  in  a  marvelously  pretty  manner,  had  bal- 
anced herself  on  the  back  of  Lymus  Lee's  old  horse. 
Blossom,  primly  decorous,  had  approved  Miss 
Manny's  shutting  the  door — it  said  that  she  must 
know  when  black  was  black  and  white  was  white; 
she  had  acted  with  commendable  consideration  for 
the  reputation  of  the  town.  There  was  no  telling, 
of  course,  what  any  girl,  who  could  turn  a  somersault 
on  a  horse's  back,  might  do  next ! 

However,  Miss  Lightwood,  by  taking  April  to 
Windover,  thwarted  any  expectancy  as  to  what  she 
would  do  next.  So  Blossom,  after  it  recovered  from 
the  shock  of  the  writer-woman  going  to  live  in  that 
old,  tumble-down  cottage  on  the  Point,  had  to  turn 
its  attention  to  the  new  addition  Tobias  Jenkins  was 
building  to  his  house,  to  the  strange  doctor  from 
Portland  who  had  hung  out  his  shingle  over  the 


AT  THE  SUGAR  BOWL  153 

Post  Office,  to  the  Newberry  triplets,  born  the  day 
before  Christmas,  and  "as  like  as  peas  in  a  pod." 

Jeremy  and  Chubbs,  occasionally,  brought  back 
strange  stories  of  the  doings  at  Windover.  Miss 
Lightwood  had  been  seen  to  race  with  Aprilly  on 
the  Point.  The  two  of  them  had  slept  one  night  out 
in  the  open — Chubbs,  passing  at  an  early  hour,  had 
seen  them  rolled  in  their  blankets  right  out  in  plain 
sight!  And  April  made  mysterious  visits,  almost 
daily,  to  Lymus  Lee's  pasture.  Later,  snowshoes 
and  skiis  came  from  Boston  to  Miss  Lightwood. 
After  that,  Miss  Lightwood  and  April  often  walked 
into  the  village  on  their  snowshoes,  their  merry  faces 
framed  in  bright  woolen  caps,  gay  scarfs  flying, 
laughing,  like  rollicking  children. 

That  "the  Dangerfield  girl"  went  neither  to 
school  nor  to  Sunday-school  caused  as  much  relief  as 
comment,  for  the  young  people,  torn  inwardly  by 
curiosity  and  a  grudging  admiration  for  April, 
would  have  been  sorely  tried  by  the  discreet  example 
of  their  elders  in  snubbing  April. 

Blossom  knew  each  time  Michael  Brown  set  his 
face  toward  Windover.  "Three  nights  last  week  the 
minister  had  supper  with  the  writer-woman,"  Mrs. 
Brown  told  Mrs.  Cox,  and  Mrs.  Cox  told  Mrs.  Lee, 
and  Mrs.  Lee  told  Mrs.  Gregg  and  then  on,  from 
kitchen  to  kitchen. 


154  APRILLY 

In  February  Susanna  Brewster  Newberry,  one 
of  the  Christmas  triplets,  died  of  croup.  For  awhile, 
then,  the  Mrs.  Browns  and  Mrs.  Coxes,  and  Mrs. 
Lees  of  the  town  turned  their  concern  upon  the  re- 
maining two  of  the  triplets. 

In  May  Miss  Lightwood's  new  book  "Windover" 
was  published.  The  manuscript  had  been  com- 
pleted and  sent  off  to  the  publishers  in  January.  Miss 
Leila  and  April  and  Michael  Brown  and  Judy  had 
celebrated  with  a  riotous  supper  and  "party"  at 
Windover.  Then  Miss  Leila  had  begun  work  on  a 
series  of  magazine  articles  which  had  been  "nesting" 
in  the  back  of  her  head. 

Blossom  might  never  have  known  about  the  new 
book  had  not  a  moving-picture  man  suddenly  ap- 
peared at  the  Post  Office,  seeking  the  whereabouts  of 
Miss  Lightwood's  hiding-place.  On  his  heels  came 
a  dozen  newspaper  correspondents,  eager  to  jot  down 
the  smallest  fact  concerning  Blossom.  "If  you  as 
much  as  turn  around  one  of  them  fellers  writes  it 
down  in  his  book."  And,  when  Blossom  excitedly 
questioned  what  it  was  all  about,  they  jeeringly  asked 
if  the  town  did  not  know  it  sheltered  one  of  the  most 
famous  writers  of  the  day  and,  it  was  suspected,  was, 
as  well,  the  scene  of  her  new  book? 

The  moving-picture  man  perched  himself  and 
his  camera  atop  a  pile  of  boxes  and  filmed  Miss 
Lightwood  emerging  from  the  Post  Office;  again  as 


AT  THE  SUGAR  BOWL  155 

she  paused  at  the  corner  to  read  the  letter  she  had 
opened.  The  newspaper  men  wrote  interviews  with 
the  leading  citizens,  photographed  the  main  street, 
the  Common,  the  Emporium,  even  got  a  snapshot 
of  Miss  Light  wood  as  she  lifted  laughing  eyes 
of  protest. 

Windover  Point,  the  old  lighthouse,  the  little  cot- 
tage and  its  pretty  tradition,  became  suddenly  famous 
all  along  the  New  England  shore. 

"I  wonder  of  these  Blossom  people  will  find 
themselves  in  the  book,"  laughed  Miss  Lightwood, 
who  was  enoying  hugely  the  fame  she  shared  with 
the  town.  "That  cranky  old  Mrs.  Brown  will  think 
she's  my  darling  mothery  Aunt  Phoebe!  And  Miss 
Manny  will  never  recognize  herself  in  the  does-not- 
know-how-to-be-happy  Jane  Hathaway.  April,  it's 
fun  to  write  a  book !  If  Blossom  enjoys  its  prom- 
inence, I've  only  paid  a  debt,  for  I've  had  a  wonder- 
ful winter  here,  a  winter  I'll  never  forget."  Looking 
at  April,  though  Miss  Lightwood  wondered  how 
much  she  owed  to  Blossom  and  how  much  she  owed 
to  April. 

"Aprilly-dear,  I  am  something  of  a  prophet!  I 
predict  that,  when  it  has  recovered  from  its  sudden 
chestiness,  this  village  is  going  to  open  its  arms  to 
you — and  to  me.  Our  beautiful,  careless,  happy  life 
here  on  the  Point,  will  be  intruded  upon — " 


156  APRILLY 

A  rebellious  look  shot  across  April's  face.  Miss 
Leila  caught  it. 

"They'll  open  their  arms  to  you,  Miss  Leila — 
not  me." 

"Goose,  if  they're  not  nice  to  you  I  shall  order 
every  last  one  of  them  off  the  premises — even  if 
Lymus  Lee,  himself,  appears,  with  the  key  to  the 
city  on  a  silver  salver!  Aprilly-mine,  why  that 
awful  look?" 

"I  just  hate  to  think  any  of  those  people  may 
come  here  and  spoil  our  beautiful  fun!  It's  wonder- 
ful here — with  you." 

With  an  impulsive  gesture  Miss  Leila  caught 
April's  face  between  her  hands  and  kissed  it.  "Say 
that  again,  child.  Time  and  time  again  I've  had  a 
twinge  of  conscience  because  I  wasn't  sending  you  to 
school,  or  training  you  to  earn  your  living  in  some 
way,  or  doing  something  like  that.  Micky  has  hinted 
that  I've  wasted  this  winter.  But  I  sort  of  felt  that 
what  you  needed  most,  for  awhile,  was  just  to  be 
happy!  I  shall  tell  Micky  I  was  right.  Well,  to 
'divulge'  from  the  subject,  as  Judy  would  say,  let's  not 
worry  about  the  leading  citizens  until  we  have  to — 
let's  go  to  the  woods  and  hunt  wild  flowers.  Oh,  how 
young  the  spring  makes  me  feel !  Let's  race  to  the 
road.  Did  you  beat  me  in  the  last  race  or  did  I 
beat  you?" 


AT  THE  SUGAR  _BOWL  157 

In  a  very  short  time  Miss  Lightwood's  prediction 
came  true.  Several  of  the  more  prominent  women  of 
the  village  donned  their  Sunday-best  and  called  at 
the  cottage.  Miss  Lightwood  served  them  tea  out 
under  the  budding  apple  trees.  April,  in  a  made-over 
dress  of  Miss  Lightwood's,  flushing  under  the  covert 
scrutiny  of  the  guests,  passed  the  cups  and  the  plates 
of  little  cakes.  A  few  days  later  Deacon  Lee  invited 
Miss  Lightwood  to  give  readings  from  her  own 
works  at  the  Baptist  Church  social,  which  invitation 
Miss  Lightwood  tactfully  declined.  A  walk  to  the 
Post  Office  became  a  difficult  and  lengthy  ordeal. 

April  voiced  one  vehement  protest.  In  a  few 
weeks  the  Merediths  would  return — they  had  only  a 
little  while  longer  to  play  just  by  themselves,  at 
Windover.  Couldn't,  couldn't  Miss  Leila  keep  the 
Blossom  people  away  ? 

"April,  darling,  I'd  like  to — but  I've  learned  that 
no  one  can  live  very  long  apart  from  his  fellowmen. 
We  haven't  any  right  to  do  it.  If  we  have  anything 
in  ourselves  to  give  we  must  give  it.  And  we  must 
not  throw  away  what  others  have  to  give  us.  Of 
course  I  mean  things  of  the  spirit!  Now — "  she 
waved  her  hand,  significantly,  toward  the  road  over 
which  approached  three  besilked  and  begloved  ladies. 
"I  admit  it's  hard  to  believe  that  those  dear  souls, 
who  threaten  our  beautiful  solitude,  have  anything 
that  we  need,  but  sometimes  the  most  precious  gifts 


i$8  APRILLY 

are  in  queer  wrappings.  Don't  look  like  such  a  thun- 
der cloud,  April.  Run  and  tell  Judy  to  get  out  the 
tea  things.  The  wind's  too  cold  to  play  party  out- 
side; we'll  have  it  right  here  by  this  sunny  window." 

One  evening  toward  the  end  of  May  April  went 
alone  to  the  village.  Judy  needed  saleratus  for  her 
pancakes,  Miss  Leila  had  written  letters  which  must 
go  out  on  the  early  morning  train.  As  April  walked 
along  the  Lighthouse  Road  she  breathed  in  the  soft 
spring  air  with  lifted  face;  she  reveled  in  the  thrill  of 
the  springtime  that  made  something  inside  of  her 
sing.  She  nodded  brightly  to  the  man  behind  the 
little  window  where  she  bought  her  stamps.  Out- 
side the  Emporium  she  lingered  a  moment  to  speak  to 
old  Jeremy,  who  never  failed  to  beam  upon  her.  Her 
errands  done,  she  walked  slowly  past  the  Sugar  Bowl, 
turning  curious,  wistful  eyes  upon  its  snowy  glitter. 

In  spring,  summer  and  autumn  the  Sugar  Bowl 
was  the  rendezvous  for  Blossom's  young  people. 
Early  though  it  was  on  this  May  evening,  little 
groups  of  boys  and  girls  were  gathered  about  the 
white  tables  within,  sipping  lemonades  and  sodas. 
April  thought  it  must  be  very  jolly  to  be  one  of  such 
a  group,  to  linger  in  the  midst  of  the  chatter  and  the 
clinking  of  spoons  and  glasses!  If  those  laughing 
young  people  were  any  other  than  the  boys  and  girls 
of  Blossom,  who  had,  through  the  winter,  watched 
her  with  averted  eyes — 


AT  THE  SUGAR  BOWL  159 

"Good-evening,  April!"  A  voice  behind  her 
startled  her.  She  turned  quickly.  Phoebe  King  and 
Nellie  Sneed,  the  two  most  popular  of  the  younger 
girls  in  Blossom,  paused  on  the  steps  of  the 
Sugar  Bowl. 

April  could  scarcely  frame  an  answer  for 
astonishment.  All  through  the  winter  Phoebe  and 
Nellie  had  recognized  her  with  only  the  briefest  of 
nods.  Now  they  gave  every  sign  of  wanting  to 
be  cordial. 

"Isn't  this  the  most  heavenly  evening?"  Nellie 
asked  in  a  twittering  voice. 

"We're  going  to  get  our  fifth  soda  to-day.  Won't 
you  join  us,  April?" 

"Do  tell  us  what  that  darling  Miss  Lightwood  is 
doing  to-night  ?  I'm  crazy  to  read  her  book.  Aren't 
you  the  luckiest  girl  to  live  right  with  her.  Don't 
you  like  it  lots  better  than  with  that  queer  Deborah 
Manny?  And,  oh,  have  you  seen  any  ghosts?" 

Phoebe  caught  April's  arm  and  gave  it  a  little  tug. 
Nellie  marshaled  her  on  the  other  side.  Thus,  con- 
voyed by  the  leaders  of  the  younger  set,  April  en- 
tered the  radiance  of  the  Sugar  Bowl.  Straight  to 
the  merriest  group  in  the  room  the  two  girls  led  her. 
If  there  was  a  murmur  of  surprise  it  was  drowned 
by  Phoebe's  squealing  reiteration  that  the  next  would 
be  her  "fifth  soda." 


160  APRILLY 

In  the  clatter  of  tongues  which  followed  no  one 
noticed  that  April  sat  very  still,  a  little  breathless,  in- 
credulous. From  across  the  room  Josh  Markham 
spied  her  and  joined  the  group.  Phoebe  beamed  upon 
him  with  a  prettily  proprietary  manner ;  she  and  Josh 
had  an  "understanding,"  she  need  not  be  at  all  jealous 
of  his  awkwardly  cordial  greeting  to  April. 

Phoebe  ordered  chocolate  soda  for  April  because 
April  did  not  know  what  she  wanted.  Nellie  ex- 
changed noisy  banter  with  the  white-coated  atten- 
dant who  waited  upon  them.  She  had  had,  in  a 
recent  visit  to  Portland,  acquired  some  very  up-to- 
date  slang  which  she  now  used  freely,  to  everyone's 
delight.  April,  watching  her  over  the  rim  of  her 
glass,  thought  she  was  very  pretty  and  would  be  nice 
if  she  wasn't  quite  so  noisy. 

When  the  little  group  scattered  April  had  re- 
ceived three  invitations.  She  had  not  sensed  that  the 
careless  nonchalance  with  which  they  were  given  was 
really  an  effort  to  bridge  the  coldness  of  the  past 
months  and  make  her  feel  "one  of  them."  As  she 
walked  homeward,  the  spell  of  the  Sugar  Bowl 
broken,  she  felt  a  mounting  wave  of  resentment 
surge  through  her. 

"And  I  won't  go  to  any  of  their  stupid  old  par- 
ties," she  cried,  as  she  finished  telling  Miss  Light- 
wood  of  her  experience.  "They  don't  really  want 


AT  THE  SUGAR  BOWL  161 

me.  I'm  not  a  bit  different  from  what  I  was  when 
they  thought  I  wasn't  good  enough — " 

Miss  Lightwood  indulged  in  one  fleeting  smile 
of  triumph.  Young  Blossom  had  sought  out  April. 
Old  Blossom  must  succumb  sooner  or  later.  And, 
before  she  was  through,  they  must  atone  to  April  for 
the  hurt  they  had  given  her.  But  April  must  meet 
them  half-way. 

She  regarded  April's  mutinous  face  with  seri- 
ous eyes. 

"Come  here,  April-storm,  out  into  the  dusk. 
You  and  I  must  talk" 


CHAPTER  xy 

GHOSTS  AND  APPLE  BLOSSOMS 

Miss  Lightwood  led  April  to  the  old  bench  under 
the  apple  trees.  Both  sat,  for  a  moment,  in  silence, 
entranced  by  the  beauty  of  the  twilight.  A  fragrance 
of  apple  blossoms  and  new  grass  and  damp  earth  en- 
veloped them;  a  freshening  breeze,  with  a  tang  of 
salt  in  it,  touched  their  cheeks;  a  glow  of  red  still 
colored  the  tops  of  the  pine  wood  on  the  slope  be- 
yond Forest  Hill;  against  the  dusky  blue  of  the 
heaving  sea  the  old  lighthouse  stood  like  a 
ghostly  shadow. 

A  robin  sang  a  note  or  two,  heavenly  sweet,  from 
a  nearby  tree — another  answered ;  there  was  a  whirr 
of  wings. 

"Oh,"  Miss  Lightwood  spoke  in  a  hushed  voice, 
"the  wonder  of  moments — and  places — like  this! 
How  the  little  material  things  sink  into  insignificance. 
See,  April,  that  starr—  And  smell  the  sea—  Did 
you  notice  that  the  old  rose  vine  has  buds?  In  a 
few  weeks  our  cottage  will  be  a  bower." 

Under  the  magic  of  the  evening  April's  sulkiness 
slowly  vanished — but  not  its  cause.  The  very  beauty 
of  their  shut-away  cottage,  of  the  Point,  in  its  car- 
peting of  new  grass,  the  deep  blue  of  the  sea,  the 
162 


GHOSTS  AND  APPLE  BLOSSOMS         163 

budding  flowers  they  had  nursed  so  tenderly,  made 
her  hate  the  more  to  have  outsiders  intrude  upon 
their  unconventional  life. 

"When  things  go  wrong,  April,"  Miss  Light- 
wood  went  on,  "there's  no  better  cure  than  ten  long 
whiffs  of  good  out-of-doors.  I've  always  found  that 
it  straightened  things  out  splendidly — even  the  worst 
tangle.  This  is  precious,  isn't  it?"  She  lifted  her 
face  to  the  pink  canopy  of  the  tree  branches.  "Like 
a  fairy  land.  I  shall  always  remember  my  winter  at 
Windover.  That  December  gale — I  can  hear  the 
wind  roar  now !  And  the  week  we  were  snowed  in ; 
when  he  rescued  us  Cap'n  Joe  was  so  disappointed  to 
find  us  as  cosy  as  could  be.  And  now  the  wonder  of 
the  spring !" 

A  dreadful  fear  seized  at  April's  heart.  "Oh,"  she 
cried,  "I  can't  bear  to  have  you  talk  as  though  it  was 
all  over!  Can't  I  ever  have  a  home  like  other 
girls  and — " 

"Hush,  child!  Your  home  shall  always  be  with 
me.  When  I  took  you  last  fall  I  assumed  a  respon- 
sibility which  I  am  not  likely  to  shirk  even  if  I  were 
less  fond  of  you  than  I  am.  But  we  must  know 
something  more  about  one  another.  I  am  not  going 
to  ask  you  to  break  that  absurd  promise  Miss  Manny 
made  you  make,  but  if  I  should  guess — and  guess 
right — it  would  only  be  fair  to  tell  me  that  I  have 
guessed  right?"  She  made  her  tone  light.  "First 


i64  APRILLY 

of  all,  I'll  guess  your  mother  was — a  bareback  rider 
in  a  circus !" 

April's  eyes  grew  round.  "Oh,  how  could 
you  guess?" 

"Simple — your  own  riding,  the  pink  skirts — and 
Miss  Manny's  prejudice." 

"But,  oh,  Miss  Leila,  she  was  wonderful.  They 
called  her  La  Belle  Queen.  Claribel,  she  was  my 
nurse,  said  there  was  never  anyone  like  her." 

"Some  other  time  you  must  tell  me  more  about 
her.  Second  guess — your  mother  was  ill  and  lost  her 
position  with  the  company  she  traveled  with." 

"How  can  you  know  all  that  ?  Those  were  dread- 
ful days.  At  first  I  didn't  mind,  it  was  exciting  going 
to  school  'cause  I  never  had.  But  we  moved  from 
one  place  to  another  and  Queenie  grew  worse  and 
worse  and  I  was  so  worried,  and  Claribel  had  to  go 
away  and  then — and  then— «" 

Excitedly  April  told  her  story,  with  youthful  in- 
coherence, so  that  Miss  Lightwood  had  to  put  it  to- 
gether, piece  by  piece.  Toto  fitted  into  the  picture 
as  a  kind  friend  and  guardian  of  April.  But  why 
had  he  not  answered  April's  appeal  ?  It  would  not  be 
so  very  difficult  to  locate  him,  Miss  Lightwood 
mused.  And  yet  April  was  now  so  happy,  so  con- 
tent with  her,  that  it  might  be  unwise  to  force  her 
back  into  the  uncertain  fortunes,  the  merciless  grind, 
the  empty  claptrap  of  circus  life. 


GHOSTS  AND  APPLE  BLOSSOMS        165 

"Why  does  Miss  Manny  think  circus  people  are 
wicked?"  demanded  April,  her  story  finished.  "They 
are  good  people — I'd  like  to  see  Miss  Manny  prove 
that  they  are  not !" 

"April,  probably  poor  Deborah  Manny  never  in 
her  life  came  nearer  to  a  circus  than  she  did  the  after- 
noon she  watched  you  ride.  It's  prejudice.  And  the 
less  the  Deborah  Mannys  of  this  world  know  about 
a  thing  the  true-bluer  they  are  in  their  prejudices!" 

"But  they  all  think  so — at  least  she  said  they 
would  if  they  knew." 

"Oh,  they'd  all  stick  staunchly  to  their  preju- 
dices," laughed  Miss  Leila.  "Prejudice,  April,  is 
like  the  nasty  Dodder  that  twines  its  deceiving  ten- 
drils about  the  stalks  and  stems  of  a  flower,  finally 
choking  and  killing  the  beautiful  growth.  Prejudice 
grows  around  our  souls — if  we  let  it — just  that 
way.  And  mostly  always  it  springs  from  and  feeds 
on  ignorance." 

April  tried  very  hard  to  understand  the  com- 
parison. Miss  Lightwood's  eyes  had  a  far-off  look, 
about  her  lips  played  a  whimsical  smile. 

"April,  I've  heard  your  story,  now  wouldn't  you 
like  to  know  something  about  me?  You  think  you 
know  it  all?  Oh,  there  is  a  lot  more  than  just  that 
I've*  traveled  about  and  made  a  little  succes  with  my 
books — more,  even,  than  that  I  went  through Vassar." 

"Oh,  please  tell  me,"  begged  April,  proud  that 
she  was  to  share  Miss  Leila's  confidence. 


166  APRILLY 

"Looking  very  far  back,"  mused  Miss  Leila,  "I 
think  I  must  have  always  been  a  rebel.  Even  when  I 
was  a  little  girl  in  very  short  skirts  and  very  long 
stockings,  I  used  to  rebel  at  the  fates  that  shut  me 
behind  glass  windows  when  such  an  interesting  world 
passed  by  outside.  I  wanted  to  know  more  of 
those  people  and  where  they  were  going  and  what 
they  did.  I  knew  they  didn't  do  the  things  I  did,  and 
I  wanted  to  do  things  with  them.  I  played  by  the 
hour  that  I  was  the  little  girl  with  the  shawl  over  her 
head  who,  each  Thursday  night,  carried  a  huge 
bundle  of  laundry  to  the  house  in  the  next  block. 
One  very  cold  afternoon  I  begged  to  bring  her  in 
and  have  a  tea-party  with  her,  but  my  mother  was 
horrified  and  told  me  that  I  must  never  dream  of 
doing  such  a  thing,  that  I  might  run  out  and  give  her 
a  coin  and  that  I  could  have  a  little  tea-party  for  some 
of  my  friends  the  next  week,  but  that  I  must  never 
associate  with  a  child  like  the  one  who  carried  the 
bundle.  I  tried  to  explain  to  my  mother  what  I 
wanted,  but  she  paid  no  attention  to  me.  I  think  the 
determination  took  root  then  in  my  soul  to,  some  day, 
break  away  from  my  gilded  prison  and  mingle  with 
all  the  little  girls  who  wore  shawls  over  their  heads 
and  carried  bundles.  And  the  determination  grew 
as  I  grew  older. 

"What  a  disappointment  I  must  have  been  to  my 
mother !  Though  her  dreams  for  me  did  not  go  be- 


GHOSTS  AND  APPLE  BLOSSOMS         167 

yond  a  sort  of  butterfly-in-hothouse  existence,  they 
were  her  mother-dreams  and  I  was  her  only  girl.  She 
did  not  want  me  to  go  to  college ;  she  did  not  want  me 
to  talk  of  a  career.  She  said  college  girls  grew  plain 
and  dowdy  with  their  learning  and  that  they  lost  their 
charm.  There's  prejudice  for  you,  April !" 

"Throughout  my  Senior  year  she  cherished  the 
hope  that  I  would  go  home  after  graduation  and  be 
introduced  to  her  society.  Poor,  little,  pretty  mother, 
I  had  to  hurt  her  so !  I  had  begun  to  write  a  little. 
I  had  had  a  few  stories  accepted;  more  came  back, 
however.  I  determined  to  know  what  was  the  matter 
with  them,  so  I  took  all  my  courage  in  my  hand — 
and  my  latest  returned  manuscript — and  faced  a  real 
editor  in  his  den.  He  was  not  at  all  awful — we're 
very  good  friends,  now.  He  talked  to  me  as  though 
I  was  a  little  girl.  And  he  told  me  I  was  'seriously 
handicapped  by  my  family  flesh-pots.'  When  I 
asked  him  what  he  meant,  he  said :  'Aren't  you  one 
of  the  Lightwoods  of  Philadelphia?'  I  said  yes,  and 
he  answered  that  I  had  just  about  as  much  chance  of 
knowing  life  as  it  really  is  for  most  human  mortals 
as  a  story-book  princess.  I  went  away  with  my  old 
feeling  of  rebellion  against  the  walls  that  shut  me 
from  the  real  world.  And  I  vowed  I  would 
escape  them." 

"What  did  you  do?"  begged  April,  hanging  on 


"i68  APRILLY 

the  story  with  breathless  interest.    Miss  Leila's  man- 
ner made  it  very  real. 

"Instead  of  going  home  after  graduation  I  took 
a  position  in  a  glove  factory.  And,  oh,  what  a  stupid 
worker  I  was — and  how  my  legs  and  arms  ached! 
And  how  hard  I  worked  to  be  as  efficient  as  the 
others.  A  little  wisp  of  a  girl  next  to  me  could  do 
twice  what  I  did!  And  I  tried  so  hard  to  live  just 
like  the  other  girls  did  and  to  make  them  like  me,  but 
they  would  not — they  looked  upon  me  as  an  outsider ; 
in  everything  I  did  or  said  they  looked  for  sham  and 
insincerity.  And  finally  the  foreman  discharged  me 
because  he  thought  I  was  some  sort  of  a  labor  agi- 
tator. Then  I  took  a  position  in  a  department  store. 
In  the  waists.  I  did  better  there,  and  the  other  girls 
liked  me.  I  roomed  with  a  girl  from  the  notions. 
She  was  taken  sick.  I  nursed  her  nights  and  spent 
my  wages  buying  dainties  for  her.  April,  I  came 
very  close,  then,  to  the  awful  loneliness  of  some  lives 
— and  their  drabness.  She  belonged  to  the  girl-with- 
the-shawl  class  and  she  was  a  sweet,  good  child,  and 
such  a  very,  very  little  made  her  happy.  Afterward 
she  went  to  Saranac — and  she  died  there."  Miss 
Leila's  voice  faltered  for  a  moment.  "My  mother 
spoiled  my  work  at  the  store.  She  called  on  me  there 
in  all  her  darling  magnificence.  After  that  I  had  to 
give  up  my  position;  I  was  too  conspicuous  among 


GHOSTS  AND  APPLE  BLOSSOMS        169 

my  fellow-workers  and — they  did  not  believe  in 
me,  anymore." 

"Did  you  go  home?" 

"No,  mother  went  to  California  and  I  went  to 
another  city  and  took  a  position  as  cashier  in  a 
restaurant.  I  hated  it,  but  oh,  I  saw  some  wonder- 
ful sides  of  human  nature.  Then  I  did  society  on  a 
newspaper  and  was  raised  to  writing  'specials.' 
After  that  I  went  home — with  my  mother.  She  was 
not  well  and  I  wanted  to  make  up  to  her  if  only  a  little 
for  what  I  had  made  her  suffer.  My  five  years  of  re- 
bellion had  given  me  a  wealth  of  experience — and 
understanding.  I  had  learned  to  know  the  real  in 
people.  But  I  had  learned,  too,  that  if  we  are  true 
to  ourselves  we  can  be  real  wherever  our  paths  are 
thrown.  That  is  why  the  girls  at  the  glove  factory 
had  looked  upon  me  with  distrust — they  knew  I  was 
not  one  of  them,  that  I  was  not  Veal,'  that  I 
was  pretending." 

"It's  just  like  one  of  your  own  stories," 
said  April. 

"It  wasn't  easy,  April.  I  loved  nice  things  and 
comforts  and  pretty  clothes.  But  it  was  worth  it. 
It  helped  me  understand  people.  Some — like  Micky, 
are  born  with  a  bigness  of  understanding;  others, 
like  me,  have  to  acquire  it.  That's  why  Micky  can 
always  see  the  good  things  in  anybody.  He  was 
alwavs  like  that." 


170  APRILLY 

"He  wouldn't  think  people  are  wicked  because 
they  belong  to  a  circus? 

"No,  indeedy!" 

"And,  yet,"  April's  voice  was  vibrant  with  re- 
morse. "I  was  so  disappointed  when  I  found  out 
my  Mr.  Nice-face  was  a  minister,  'cause  we — the 
people  in  the  show,  you  know — always  thought  min- 
isters dreadfully  unlucky." 

"Aha,  prejudice,  Miss  April!" 

"Did  you  know  him — Mr.  Michael — very,  very 
well  when  he  was  a  little  boy?"  April  asked. 

"Oh,  very  well.  He's  younger  than  I  am,  but  he 
always  played  with  the  older  boys.  I  always 
thought  he  was  meant  for  big  things — he  could  have 
had  a  gilt-edged  parish  in  New  York  City,  you  know, 
but  he  chose  this.  That  was  like  him.  And  it's  like 
him  to  think  his  people  here,  in  this  two-penny  town, 
are  worth  all  he  does  for  them." 

April  stared  thoughtfully  into  the  gathering  dusk. 
With  a  quick  humility  she  saw  herself  small  and  sel- 
fish, clinging,  like  poor  Miss  Manny,  to  resentments 
and  prejudices.  And  she  wanted  so  much  to  be  like 
Miss  Leila  and  Mr.  Michael  and  like  her  Toto. 

"You  want  me  to  be — nice — to  those  girls  ?"  she 
asked  suddenly. 

Miss  Leila  patted  her  hand.  "Bless  your  heart, 
child,  how  quickly  you  have  caught  the  thought  back 
in  my  head.  I  want  you  to  always  try  to  find  the  real 


GHOSTS  AND  APPLE  BLOSSOMS         171 

in  anyone  or  anything — whether  it  is  that  simpering 
Nellie  Sneed  or  poor,  cranky  old  Miss  Deborah — 
or  anyone  else.  It's  there — good  or  bad.  And  if 
others  have  an  opportunity  to  know  the  real  in  you — 
well,  their  very  last  prejudice  will  crumble  fast 
enough,  see  if  it  doesn't!" 

"Phoebe's  sort  of  fun,  anyway,"  April  advanced, 
as  though  arguing  with  herself.  "  'Course  she  isn't 
as  much  fun  as  Rose  and  Chrissy.  But  I'll  be  as  nice 
to  them  as  I  know  how,"  she  finished,  with  comi- 
cal solemnity. 

We  will  have  a  happy  summer,  child,  even  if  we 
do  let  all  Blossom  into  our  paradise.  And  after  that 
— well,  I  have  promised  Micky  to  make  serious  plans 
for  you.  No,  no,  not  a  word  of  them  now.  What 
do  you  say,  Aprilly,  to  letting  Miss  Sands  make  over  . 
that  green  organdy  of  mine  for  you  to  wear  to 
Phoebe's  party?  I  want  you  to  look  your  best,  and 
you  are  particularly  bewitching  in  green." 

"Oh,  I'd  love  that !  May  I  run  in,  now,  and  try 
it  on?" 

After  the  girl  had  gone  Miss  Leila  lingered  out 
under  the  apple  blossoms.  A  chilliness  had  crept  into 
the  air.  She  shivered.  Ghost  memories,  wakened 
by  her  story,  haunted  her — memories  of  her  girl- 
hood. She  had  only  touched  lightly,  to  April,  on 
those  five  years  of  her  life,  but  depths  in  her  heart  had 
been  stirred.  It  had  not  been  easy  to  forsake  the 


172  APRILLY 

bright  way  of  ease  and  girlish  pleasures ;  friends  had 
misunderstood  her,  laughed  at  her,  called  her 
"crazy."  She  had  stubbornly  faced  unnecessary 
privations  and  humiliations,  she  had  hurt  the  being 
dearest  to  her  of  all  the  world.  And  from  it  all  had 
learned  that  there  is  not  so  much  happiness  in  this 
old  world  that  one  can  waste  or  needlessly  destroy 
one  little  bit  of  it.  Happiness — her  thoughts  turned 
to  the  child  who  had  run  indoors  to  slip  on  the  green 
dress.  Fifteen  years,  and,  though  into  them  had 
been  crowded  much  of  pomp  and  adulation  and 
change,  from  them  had  been  denied  more — she  had 
never  had  any  of  the  hide-and-seek  sort  of  play,  the 
gang  companionship,  the  healthy,  rollicking  fun  that 
is  a  fundamental  of  childhood. 

Were  there  many  little  girls  like  that — who, 
though  to  all  appearances  having  everything,  were 
being  cheated  of  something  that  was  their  right? 
Miss  Leila, alone  under  the  deepeningdusk  of  the  sky, 
wished  she  could  gather  them  all  to  her.  "I'm  glad  I 
had  April  his  winter,  anyway,"  she  murmured,  aloud. 
For,though  Michael  Brown  might  think  she'd  wasted 
the  winter  she  knew  that  the  lightheartedness  of  the 
last  few  months  must  have  healed  the  hurt  of  the 
girl's  bright  spirit.  That  thought  meant  more  to  her 
than  the  book  she  had  written.  Across  her  mind 
flashed  a  bit  of  a  phrase  she  loved :  "Everything  we 
do  is  going  to  make  its  mark  on  something — a  nation, 
or  the  soul  of  a  child." 


CHAPTER  XVI 
CHANGES 

"I  have  expected  this — for  some  time,"  Miss 
Lightwood  let  the  letter  she  was  reading  fall  into  her 
lap.  With  troubled  eyes  she  stared  out  through  the 
rain-splashed  window. 

"Oh,  is  it  bad  news?  Aren't  they  coming  to 
Forest  Hill  ?"  cried  April.  Through  the  storm  she 
had  hurried  back  from  the  Post  Office  with  the  letter, 
certain  that  it  would  tell  them  the  exact  day  and  hour 
of  the  Merediths'  arrival. 

Two  sharp  lines  wrinkled  Miss  Leila's  brow. 
"Bad  news — yes.  And  yet  it  may  be  the  making  of 
them."  Then  she  smiled  at  April's  perplexity. 
"This  is  from  Chrissy's  mother.  They  are  coming 
to  Forest  Hill.  But — Chrissy's  father  has  lost  all  ©f 
his  money.  I  knew  he'd  been  trying  for  over  a  year 
to  avert  some  sort  of  a  crisis.  I  didn't  know,  though, 
how  bad  it  was.  Caroline  says,  here,  that  they've  sold 
the  automobiles  and  that  she  has  discharged  all  her 
servants.  Mrs.  Todd  will  cook  for  them  at  Forest 
Hill,  They're  going  to  lease  the  New  York  house. 
What  a  tremendous  change!  I  wonder  if  they  will 
have  the  courage  to  face  it." 

173 


174  APRILLY 

"But  when  are  they  coming?"  For  April  could 
not  possibly  sense  the  significance  of  the  Meredith 
downfall.  In  her  experience  riches  and  poverty  had 
been  more  or  less  jumbled  together.  To  her  the  im- 
portant thing  was  that  her  Rose  and  Chrissy  and 
Keith  were  coming  back;  that  Forest  Hill  would  be 
again  open. 

"A  week  from  today.  Perhaps  all  this  will  cure 
poor  Cousin  Caroline's  nerves!" 

But  one  hour  with  the  Merediths,  after  their 
arrival,  dashed  Miss  Lightwood's  hopes.  Mrs. 
Meredith  persisted  in  making  the  family  misfortune 
a  black  as  possible.  She'd  almost  rather  see  her  poor 
children  in  their  graves  than  to  have  them  to  face 
this  terrible  humiliation — her  husband  had  failed  her 
and  his  children!  Whatever  could  poor  Chrissy  or 
Keith  do  ?  The  sound  of  their  voices  from  the  porch, 
where  they  were  chattering  with  Rose  and  April  only 
brought  a  fresh  outburst  of  tears.  In  the  year  both 
Chrissy  and  Keith  had  grown  amazingly — Chrissy 
had  acquired  a  very  becoming  grown-upness ;  Keith's 
happy-go-lucky  manner  had  changed  to  an  easy  im- 
portance befitting  his  sophomoric  status  in  college. 
Miss  Leila,  watching  them,  thought  again  that  their 
father's  financial  ruin  might  be  their  making.  How- 
ever, there  was  no  use  suggesting  this  to  their 
mother.  Miss  Leila  knew  that  poor  Mrs.  Meredith 
believed  too  staunchly  in  the  power  and  blessing  of 


CHANGES  175 

riches.  So,  though  she  wanted  more  than  anything 
else  to  shake  her,  Miss  Leila  endeavored  to  sooth  her 
by  pointing  out  to  her  how  comfortable  and  even 
happy  they  oculd  be  at  Forest  Hill  with  Mrs.  Todd 
while  Thomas  Meredith  bent  every  effort  toward 
saving  something  from  the  wreck. 

Chrissy  and  Keith  were  experiencing  an  immense 
relief  in  the  shelter  of  Forest  Hill.  With  youthful 
selfishness  they  had  felt  far  more  sorry  for  them- 
selves than  for  either  their  father  or  their  mother. 

"Dad  ought  to  have  seen  all  this  coming,"  Keith 
had  repeated  over  and  over,  ignoring  the  fact  that, 
time  and  again,  his  father  had  begged  his  family  to 
practice  economy.  "It's  darned  hard  on  a  fellow 
placed  like  me !  I'm  glad  to  get  away  from  the  fel- 
lows at  college." 

"How'd  you  feel  if  you  could  see  the  girls  all 
whispering  and  looking  at  you?  That  horrid  Sylvia 
Dale's  father  hated  Dad.  She  told  all  the  girls.  They 
stared  at  me  as  though  I  was  a  beggar !  I'll  never, 
never,  never  go  back  to  Oakdale." 

The  younger  Merediths  were  exchanging  these 
confidences  immediately  after  their  arrival  at  Forest 
Hill.  For  the  first  time  in  their  lives  they  were  glad 
to  be  in  Blossom.  It  was  remote  from  the  scenes 
of  their  recent  humiliations.  Its  serenity  consoled 
them ;  their  catastrophe  faded  into  the  semblance  of  a 
nightmare  from  which  they  must  awaken  to  the  com- 


176  APRILLY 

f orting  knowledge  that  it  was  not  true !  The  familiar 
things  about  them,  the  sloping  lawns,  the  stately  trees 
in  their  delicate  foliage.  Cyrenus  Todd's  flower- 
beds, freshly  blooming,  helped  this  illusion.  It  could 
not  be  true  that  all  the  happy  luxuries  that  had  been 
theirs  would  be  theirs  no  longer ! 

And  April,  too,  diverted  their  minds  from  their 
tragedy.  She  was  so  radiant  at  their  return  that 
they  could  not  help  but  catch  her  spirit.  To  her  it 
meant  nothing  that  Thomas  Meredith  had  lost 
thousands  and  thousands  of  dollars,  that  automobiles 
had  been  sold  and  servants  dismissed — why  should 
anyone  mind  that  when  one  could  rejoice  in  the  anti- 
cipation of  another  happy  summer — picnics  on  the 
Point  and  on  Pigeon  Island,  cruises  with  Cap'n 
Merry,  hikes  over  green  fields  and  through  pine 
woods.  And,  too,  she  had  so  very  much  to  tell  the  girls 
of  her  winter  with  Miss  Leila.  She  f  elt,with  excusable 
satisfaction,  that  they  would  envy  her  those  idyllic 
months  at  Windover,  that  they  might  even  contrast 
her  fun  with  their  fun  at  Oakdale. 

Her  happy  mood  acted  as  a  tonic  upon  Chrissy 
and  Rose.  April  thought  Chrissy  very  splendid  and 
grown-up  and  Rose  "sweeter  than  ever."  At  April's 
insistence,  the  Merediths,  somewhat  reluctantly,  con- 
sented to  include  Phoebe  King  and  Nellie  Sneed  and 
Josh  Markham  in  their  first  picnic! 


CHANGES  177 

As  she  listened  to  their  planning  Miss  Lightwood 
again  had  that  persistent  conviction  that  out  of 
Thomas  Meredith's  failure  might  come  much  good. 
She  had  just  left  Mrs.  Meredith  in  an  impossible 
state  of  lamentation — it  was  useless  to  try  to  even 
reason  with  her.  But  she  found  Chrissy  and  Rose 
very  happy  at  Windover,  discussing  with  April  the 
picnic  lunch  for  the  trip  to  Pigeon  Island. 

"It'll  be  a  long  pull,  Chrissy,  but  I  believe  you'll 
make  it,"  she  said,  half-aloud.  And  she  did  not  re- 
fer to  the  cruise  to  Pigeon  Island.  "Only  what  a 
shame  to  have  let  them  plaster  you  over  with  such 
snobbery !  "Them,"  in  Miss  Leila's  mind,  meant  the 
the  nurses,  and  governesses  and  instructors  who, 
from  the  cradle,  had  presided  over  Chrissy's 
gilded  destinies. 

The  youngsters,  Miss  Lightwood  reasoned,  must 
make  things  easier  for  their  mother  and  father.  She 
seized  upon  an  opportunity  that  Very  day  to  talk  of  it 
to  Chrissy.  She  could  appeal  only  to  Chrissy's  warm- 
heartedness, for  there  had  been  nothing  in  the  girl's 
training  to  help  her  comprehend  the  full  extent  of 
what  had  happened  to  them  or  to  know  how  to  meet 
it.  That  realization,  Miss  Leila  had  sense  enough  to 
know,  must  come  gradually  and  painfully.  No  use 
mentioning  to  Chrissy  nowr  that  she  might  not 
"finish"  at  Qakdale,  or  indeed,  at  any  other  ex- 
pensive and  exclusive  school,,  that  Keith  might  not 
12 


iy8  APRILLY 

go  back  to  college,  and  that  there  could  be  no  im- 
mediate thought  of  the  year  abroad — .  Instead,  she 
roused  in  Chrissy's  kind  heart  the  desire  to  make 
things  as  easy  as  possible  for  her  mother,  to  help 
Mrs.  Todd,  who  was  too  old  to  undertake  all  the 
work  of  the  household,  and  to  write  long,  cheerful 
letters  to  her  father,  impressing  upon  him  that  they 
were  very  comfortable  and  contented  in  Blossom. 

Chrissy  did  not  know  that  she  was  setting  her 
face  toward  new  things.  She  only  felt  a  novel  sense 
of  responsibility  toward  her  family.  She  took  upon 
herself,  delightedly,  the  ordering  of  the  household 
supplies,  keeping  hodge-podge  accounts  in  a  huge 
old  ledger  the  found  in  her  Grandfather  Truitt's 
desk.  She  set  Wednesdays  aside  to  sweep  and  dust, 
and  though  the  sweeping  and  dusting  were  too  often 
left  to  poor  Mrs.  Todd,  it  gave  Chrissy  a  sense  of 
well-doing  to  talk  of  Wednesday  as  her  "sweep- 
ing day." 

She  convinced  herself  that  it  was  fun  being 
"democratic,"  by  which  she  meant  associating  with 
the  Blossom  young  people.  She  could  understand, 
now,  why  Keith  had  always  liked  Josh  Markham. 
Nellie  Sneed  was  a  "scream,"  and  not  unlike,  except 
in  the  matter  of  dress,  many  of  the  more  superficial 
girls  at  Oakdale.  And  it  was  an  immense  relief,  too, 
to  feel  that  it  did  not  make  any  difference  to  these 
girls  and  boys  that  they  were  no  longer  "rich." 


CHANGES  179 

Neither  expensive  clothes  nor  automobiles  were  es- 
sential in  Blossom.  Here  values  were  different ;  one 
did  not  judge  another  by  the  quality  or  cut  of  a  gar- 
ment, by  a  style  of  hair  dress  or  the  possession  of 
some  costly  fad. 

The  spring  had  brought  other  changes  in  Blos- 
som. Into  the  straight-thinking  minds  of  the  older 
of  Blossom's  men  and  women  was  forced  the  realiza- 
tion that  a  new  spirit  had  come  to  the  town  with 
Michael  Brown.  None  of  them  knew  just  how  to 
analyze  it;  many  frowned  upon  it,  others  were  sus- 
picious of  "new  ways."  The  new  minister  was  so 
unlike  old  Doctor  Snow,  who  had  been  rector  at  St. 
Stephen's  for  twenty  years.  Yet,  and  they  all  had  to 
admit  the  fact,  never,  in  the  history  of  St.  Stephen's 
had  so  many  young  people  regularly  attended  service. 

The  deacons  of  the  First  Baptist  Church  often 
discussed  this  fact,  at  first  with  careful  indifference, 
that  no  one  of  them  might  think  they  were  the  least 
bit  worried.  But  their  concern  was  brought  to  an 
acute  head  when  they  learned  that  St.  Stephen's  had 
leased  the  rooms  over  the  Emporium  and  was  going 
to  open  a  billiard  room  and  a  gymnasium,  where 
basket-ball  games,  dances  and  plays  could  be  held. 

"Blowed  if  I  know  what  that  foolery  has  to  do 
with  God's  Word,  but  I  say"  and  Ezekiel  Sneed 
brought  a  big  fist  down  upon  his  neighbor  Lee's  table, 
"that,  if  that's  going  to  keep  folks  in  the  church,  why 
I'm  for  a  dance-hall,  too." 


i8o  APRILLY 

Deacon  Lee  frowned  at  the  suggestion.  Two 
dance-halls,  two  billiard  rooms — what  was  Blossom 
coming  to? 

Little  old  Noah  Tubbs  who,  quite  by  accident, 
having  dropped  in  to  borrow  Lymus  Lee's  potato 
planter,  was  in  on  the  confab,  and  belonging  to  no 
church,  could  speak  impartially,  broke  in,  with  his 
cracked  voice:  "Why,  jine  in  with  'em,  jine  in 
with  'em!" 

Certainly  not  at  all  like  a  seer,  the  little  old  man 
had,  however,  revealed  the  vision  to  the  distraught 
deacons.  Of  course — one  hall  for  the  First  Church 
and  St.  Stephen's,  alike,  for  everyone!  Their 
thoughts  leaped  ahead — the  big  shed  back  of  the 
Post  Office  was  available,  too,  and  a  little  money — 

The  very  next  day  the  deacons  approached 
Michael  Brown.  They  found  him  in  his  back  yard, 
coatless,  bareheaded,  teaching  Jimmy  Brewster  the 
principles  of  boxing.  Michael  Brown  kept  them 
waiting  for  a  few  moments  while  he  explained  an 
important  point  to  the  boy.  He  did  not  consider  it 
necessary  to  offer  any  apology  for  his  unusual  occu- 
pation. "Good  thing,"  he  commented,  nodding 
toward  the  departing  youngster,  "trains  them  in 
quick  thinking  and  fair  dealing  and  how  to  pro- 
tect themselves." 

Because  their  all-work-together  policy  was  only  a 
day  old  in  their  minds  the  deacons  stumbled  awk- 


CHANGES  181 

wardly  in  their  effort  to  lay  their  plans  before 
Michael  Brown.  They  could  not  know  that  the 
attentive  young  man,  standing  before  them,  had  been 
working  for  a  long  time  toward  this  very  moment. 
Michael  Brown  had  not  wanted  to  win  any  young 
people  away  from  the  Baptist  Church.  He  had,  long 
ago,  dreamed  of  this  community  house  where  all 
Blossom  could  play  together,  winter  and  summer,  but 
he  had  known  that  Blossom  was  not  quite  ready  for 
the  idea.  He  had  had  the  patience  to  wait.  Now,  if 
he  could  let  these  pillars  of  the  town  believe  that  the 
plan  was  entirely  theirs,  he  would  have  their 
solid  support. 

"Splendid!  Splendid!"  he  declared.  Then  he 
talked  rapidly  of  what  an  advantage  it  would  be  to 
the  town  to  have  its  young  people — and  old  ones,  too, 
— learn  to  think  and  act  in  groups,  together.  "Every 
denomination,"  he  insisted,  and  the  deacons  nodded 
approval.  "Every  sort  of  clean  sport,"  and  they 
nodded  again,  a  little  helplessly.  "We'll  form  a  base- 
ball team  for  the  girls,  too."  And,  in  the  excitement 
of  the  moment,  they  approved  even  that.  For  the 
next  half  hour  Michael  Brown,  with  rapid  strokes 
of  the  pencil,  sketched  and  outlined  plans;  neither 
of  his  callers  suspected  that  he  had  had  them  all  in 
his  head ;  they  set  him  down  for  a  "young  feller  with 
a  whole  lot  of  git-up-and-git  to  him." 


i8a  APRILLY 

The  deacons  walked  away  from  the  old  Rectory 
with  the  somewhat  disturbing  feeling  that  they  had 
started  something  very  big.  What  would  Blos- 
som say? 

"Don't  know  what  the  missus  will  think  of  all 
this,"  admitted  Ezekiel  Sneed.  "Baseball  for  the 
girls !  She  worries  a  lot  'bout  Nellie.  Nellie's  head- 
strong. Like  my  side  of  the  house.  And  since  she's 
visited  the  folks  up  at  Portland  she's  been  awful  dis- 
contented. Wants  to  be  on  the  go  ev'ry  minute." 

Deacon  Lee  contemplated  the  stretch  of  road 
ahead  of  them.  He  loved  the  little  town  where  gen- 
erations of  Lees  had  lived  and  died;  like  all  public- 
spirited  citizens  he  was  always  dreaming  dreams  for 
Blossom,  measuring  possibilities. 

"Mebbe  it'll  keep  this  town  alive,  Ezekiel.  There 
ain't  no  wrong  as  I  can  see  in  billiards  or  dancing  or 
baseball,  either,  even  for  our  girls.  Mebbe  it'll  keep 
the  young  folks  here.  Mebbe  build  things  up."  In 
his  mind  he  saw  a  vision  of  a  booming  town,  ahum 
with  new  industries,  an  influx  of  eager,  strong  young 
workers,  new  homes,  a  rise  in  the  value  of  real  estate, 
perhaps  the  old  shipyard  restored,  all  from  their  com- 
munity plan ! 

"And  we  thought  of  it,  brother,"  he  said  solemnly. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
THE  ACCIDENT 

Two  weeks  found  the  rooms  over  Sneed's  Em- 
porium transformed.  A  modest  sign  at  the  side  door 
informed  the  passers-by  that  the  Blossom  ^Conv 
munity  Club  had  its  headquarters  there.  And,  while 
grown-up  Blossom  was  struggling  to  adjust  itself  to 
this  "new-fangled  notion,"  the  young  people  were 
dividing  into  committees  to  organize  teams  of 
all  sorts. 

To  April's  delight  she  was  put  on  three  of  these 
committees.  She  was  beginning  to  feel  at  ease  with 
Phoebe  and  Nellie  Sneed's  friends ;  when  before  she 
had  instinctively  been  on  her  guard  against  some 
slight,  now  she  sought  out  the  girls  with  happy  con- 
fidence. Miss  Leila,  with  her  wonderful  insight,  saw 
the  gradual  change  in  the  girl's  spirit  and  rejoiced 
over  it. 

With  April  interested  in  the  community  plans 
Chrissy  and  Rose  had  to  lend  their  support,  too. 
Chrissy  was  a  little  condescending,  but  when  they 
asked  her  to  coach  the  basket-ball  team  she  roused  to 
a  real  interest.  Keith  was  helping  to  arrange  the 
dance  whch  was  to  formally  open  the  new  club- 
rooms;  Miss  Leila  was  directing  the  painting  and 

183 


184  APRILLY 

simple  furnishings  of  the  billiard  room  and  the  small 
reading  room. 

Older  Blossom  watched  these  lightning-like  pre- 
parations with  wavering  approval.  Few  were  likely 
to  go  against  what  Deacon  Lee  and  Ezekiel  Sneed 
supported,  let  alone  Michael  Brown,  but — they  were 
dubious  as  to  where  all  this  tomfoolery  might  lead 
them.  And  Blossom  was  more  perturbed  than  it 
cared  to  admit  (because  of  the  distinction  Miss 
Lightwood  had  brought  to  the  town,  and  because  she 
was  acting  just  as  though  she  belonged  to  Blossom) 
at  the  way  every  one  was  taking  up  "that  Dangerfield 
girl."  Mrs.  Sneed,  in  the  seclusion  of  her  kitchen, 
voiced  her  fears  to  Mrs.  Lee,  recalling  how  "Debory 
Manny'd  driven  the  girl  out  and  Debory  Manny 
likely  knew  what  for — there  was  something  behind 
that!"  In  her  excitement  Mrs.  Sneed  admitted  that 
she  "couldn't  do  a  thing  with  Nellie — Nellie  didn't 
lift  a  finger  'round  the  house — she'd  like  to  know 
what  baseball  had  to  do  with  making  a  girl  a  right 
sort  of  housekeeper,  anyway — and  Nellie  was  as 
thick  as  molasses  with  that  Aprilly  Dangerfield." 
Mrs.  Lee  gave  the  mother  scant  comfort  when  she 
added  her  opinion  that  "the  Dangerfield  girl'd  grown 
right  pretty  fixed  up  in  the  clothes  Miss  Lightwood'd 
given  her — she  was  at  Forest  Hill's  much  as  she  was 
at  Windover,  and  it  hadn't  seemed  to  bother  her  none 
because  folks  had  given  her  the  cold  shoulder — any- 


THE  ACCIDENT  185 

way,  Maria  Perkins  had  told  her  she  believed  Debory 
Manny'd  missed  the  girl,  with  all  her  shutting  her 
out,  because  Maria  Perkins  said  Debory  was  queerer 
and  crankier  than  ever.  Anyway,  's  long  's  Miss 
Lightwood  had  taken  up  the  girl  no  one  could  exactly 
snub  her." 

"Well,"  Mrs.  Sneed's  head  had  tossed,  "nobody 
said  anything  about  snubbin',  but  she'll  bear  watchin' 
no  doubt,  and  I'm  goin'  to  watch  her." 

To  have  watched  April  in  those  early  days  of  the 
summer  would  have  taxed  even  a  more  alert  person 
than  the  watchful  Mrs.  Sneed.  There  were  not 
enough  hours  in  the  day  to  do  all  the  things  she 
wanted  to  do.  With  everything  else  she  had  prom- 
ised Nellie  Sneed  to  help  her  dye  the  stockings  for  the 
girls'  baseball  team.  They  were  to  be  red  to  match 
the  red  ties.  She  was  on  her  way  to  the  drug  store 
to  purchase  the  dye  when  she  met  Keith  and  Josh 
Markham,  rushing  headlong  from  the  Club. 

"What  do  yon  think's  the  latest,  April?  A  rip- 
ping idea!  Michael  Brown's  going  to  help  us. 
We're  going  to  have  an  orchestra  of  our  own !" 

"What  will  you  play?"  asked  April  with 
prompt  interest. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  play  anything,  but  the  other 
fellows  are.  Begin  in  a  modest  way,  you  see.  Brown 
says  a  man  can  come  down  from  Portland  once  a 
week  to  train  us,  and  we  can  rent  instruments  at 


i86  APRILLY 

first.  Someday,  maybe,  it'll  be  an  orchestra  worth 
while."  April  was  as  unconscious  as  Keith  of  the 
significance  of  his  "we."  Josh  Markham  broke 
in  eagerly : 

"I  always  wanted  to  play  a  flute.  Cy  Jenkins  can 
fiddle  great.  And  Bill  Sawyer  can  raise  the  dead 
with  his  cornet." 

The  boys  rushed  on  leaving  April  to  ponder  this 
latest  development  of  the  club.  Suddenly  she  was 
startled  by  a  loud  shouting.  Turning,  she  saw 
Lymus  Lee's  horse  emerge  from  a  cloud  of  dust,  in 
maddened  flight  down  the  road. 

"Look,  look,  little  Dorcas  Lee!"  screamed  some 
one  behind  her.  A  child  was  clinging  to  what  was 
left  of  the  old  truck,  tossing  with  it  from  side  to 
side,  in  constant  danger  of  being  crushed  against  one 
of  the  big  trees. 

"She'll  be  killed,"  moaned  Mrs.  Perkins,  cover- 
ing her  eyes. 

Two  men  were  running  out  into  the  road,  waving 
coats  and  hats  in  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  stop  the 
frightened  animal. 

The  horse,  his  head  bent,  his  eyes  fiery,  his  nos- 
trils dilated,  was  a  sight  to  frighten  the  bravest  heart. 

"Gullfaxi!"  cried  April.  Like  a  flash  to  her  mind 
came  the  memory  of  Marky*s  voice  training  and  con- 
trolling his  charges,  while  she,  a  very  little  girl,  stood 


THE  ACCIDENT  187 

by  and  admired.  "Whoa-ee-ee,"  had  always  been  his 
low-voiced  command. 

Not  for  an  instant  did  April  hesitate.  Impelled 
by  a  sudden  courage  she  jumped  to  the  center  of  the 
road.  Ezekiel  Sneed  shouted  a  warning,  but  she  paid 
no  heed.  As  the  horse  came  nearer  she  cried  loudly, 
"Whoa-ee-ee!"  The  frightened  animal  tossed  his 
head,  his  heavy  breathing  beat  into  her  ears. 
"Whoa-ee-ee!"  As  he  came  abreast  of  her  April 
threw  herself  at  his  bridle.  With  all  her  strength  she 
pulled  at  it.  The  animal's  speed  lifted  her  from  her 
feet  and  dragged  her  along.  "Whoa-ee-ee! 
Whoa-ee-ee!"  she  managed  to  cry.  "Gullfaxi!  Gull- 
jaxil  Whoa-ee-ee!"  With  a  snort  the  animal  pulled 
up  short.  As  he  did  so,  one  of  his  great  hoofs  struck 
April's  shoulder.  She  dropped  unconscious  into  the 
dust.  Over  her  the  horse  stood  very  still,  head 
hanging,  its  quivering  body  white  with  foam.  As  in 
the  days  of  his  glory,  he  had  obeyed  the  command  he 
knew  so  well. 

Tender  hands  lifted  April  and  carried  her  into  the 
Post  Office.  Others  rescued  the  weeping  Dorcas, 
frightened  but  unhurt.  Half  a  dozen  rushed  off 
for  the  doctor.  Jeremy,  stumbling  about  in  every- 
one's way,  declared  his  "wagon's  outside,  and  he'd 
get  Aprilly  to  Miss  Debory's  in  the  shake  of  a 
lamb's  tail!" 


i88  APRILLY 

In  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  strangely 
enough,  everyone  forgot  that  Miss  Manny  had  "shut 
her  door."  Her  claim  on  the  heroine  of  the  hour 
superceded  all  others.  With  reckless  indifference, 
the  men  threw  their  coats  into  the  wagon  and,  lifting 
April  in,  made  her  comfortable  among  them.  Jeremy 
slapped  the  reins  on  his  horse's  back  and  a  procession, 
such  as  had  never  passed  through  Blossom's  high- 
way, moved  slowly  toward  Miss  Manny's.  Along- 
side and  behind  the  rickety  wagon  walked  young  and 
old  of  Blossom.  Summoned  from  kitchens  and 
barns  by  flying  urchins,  more  women  and  more  men 
rushed  out  and  joined  the  throng.  Over  all  hung  a 
heavy  silence,  broken  only  by  occasional  whispers  and 
the  tread  of  feet ;  hearts,  overflowing  with  the  vener- 
ation always  given  to  a  courage  that  risks  life  to  save 
life,  beat  with  quick  apprehension  as  all  eyes  turned  to 
the  small  huddled  figure, prostrate  in  Jeremy's  wagon. 

A  little  later  April  awoke  to  an  immense  astonish- 
ment. Her  eyes  opening  slowly,  first  beheld  the 
"God  Bless  Our  Home"  worked  in  wool  and  framed 
in  sea-shells.  Shifting,  they  made  out  Jeremy's  head 
in  the  doorway  and  his  arm  holding  back  others  who 
were  trying  to  get  into  the  room.  The  new  doctor 
from  over  the  Post  Office  was  holding  her  wrist. 
There  was  a  terrible  pain  in  her  shoulder  and  down 
her  arm — she  never,  never,  never  wanted  to  move,  in 
all  her  life.  And  someone  was  crying  on  the  other 


THE  ACCIDENT  189 

side  of  the  bed.  What  she  did  not  know  was  that 
Miss  Manny's  yard  was  crowded  with  anxious  men 
and  women  who  moved  respectfully  aside  to  make  a 
passage  for  Miss  Lightwood  and  Michael  Brown, 
the  latter  coatless  and  hatless. 

Just  as  April  was  trying  to  move  her  eyes  to  see 
who  was  crying  the  doctor  touched  her  shoulder  and 
she  fainted  again.  When  she  came  back  to  conscious- 
ness she  found  herself  bound  in  close  bandages  and 
dressed  in  one  of  Miss  Deborah's  primly  stiff 
night  dresses. 

"Darling,  what  a  fright  we  have  had!"  Miss 
Lightwood  bent  over  her,  a  glass  of  sweet-smelling 
stuff  in  her  hand.  But  it  could  not  have  been  Miss 
Leila  who  had  cried  by  the  side  of  the  bed !  And — 

"Where  am  I  ?"  asked  April  in  a  weak  voice. 

"At  Miss  Manny's,  dear.  They  brought  you 
here.  Drink  this."  April  obeyed.  Miss  Leila's 
voice  was  soothing,  her  touch  light.  "The  doctor 
says  it  is  nothing  worse  than  a  broken  shoulder. 
It  will  mend  quickly." 

As  a  recollection  of  all  that  had  happened  slowly 
dawned  over  April  she  caught  Miss  Leila's  arm. 
"Then  it  is  Gull  faxi!  It  is!  It  is  I  He  heard  me. 
He  knew.  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  I  found  him."  She  made 
a  sign  to  Miss  Lightwood  to  bend  closer.  "He  was  a 
ring-top!  My  mother  rode  him,  a  long  time  ago, 
before  he  was  too  old."  What  mattered  the  pain  and 


ipo  APRILLY 

ache  in  her  body — she  had  found  a  real,  true  friend, 
who  needed  her  the  more  because  he  was  a  poor,  old, 
cast-off  horse. 

"Where — where  is  Miss  Manny?" 

Miss  Lightwood  smiled  broadly.  Triumph 
lurked  in  her  eyes.  "Downstairs  preparing  a  feast 
for  you !  And  if  you  could  look  out  of  your  window, 
April,  you  would  see  the  whole  town  walking  down 
the  road.  Michael  Brown  has  just  been  telling  them 
that  you  will  be  out  again  in  a  very  short  time,  pro- 
vided you  do  just  what  I  tell  you  to!  Not  a  man  or 
woman  of  them  would  stir  from  this  yard  until  he'd 
heard  the  truth." 

April's  eyes  glanced  about  the  familiar  room. 
"But  this  is  Miss  Manny's  room!"  she  whispered, 
wonderingly.  "I  can't  stay — here." 

"You  must,  until  you  are  well  enough  to  be 
moved  back  to  Windover,  April.  And  I  will  come 
every  day  and  take  care  of  you." 

April  had  no  time  to  mourn  the  fact  that  she  must 
miss  the  opening  of  the  club,  and  the  first  baseball 
practice — when  Chrissy  or  Rose  or  Miss  Lightwood 
were  not  at  her  bedside  Miss  Manny  was  there, 
pressing  delicacies  upon  her.  In  her  manner  there 
had  been,  from  the  first  moment  of  April's  return,  a 
pathetic  humbleness  which  set  queerly  upon  her  grim 
features.  April  was  too  young  to  recognize  it;  she 
only  thought  that  Miss  Manny  was  very  kind  to  give 


THE  ACCIDENT  igi 

up  her  own  comfortable  room  and  to  fuss  so  over 
her,  and  that  it  must  have  been  Miss  Manny  who  had 
been  crying  by  the  side  of  the  bed ! 

In  the  days  which  followed  all  Blossom  brought 
gifts  to  the  little  heroine,  and  all  sorts  of  gifts :  pies, 
cookies,  cakes,  jellies,  a  silk  handkerchief,  a  crocheted 
collar;  Michael  Brown  brought  books;  Keith  con- 
tributed games  and  came  in  every  day  to  play  them 
with  her. 

Two  weeks  after  the  accident  Miss  Manny  came 
to  April's  room  in  great  excitement.  Deacon  Lee 
and  his  wife  had  come  to  see  her.  Miss  Manny 
whisked  out  of  sight  numerous  small  effects  which 
"cluttered  the  room."  Then  she  smoothed  April's 
tousled  hair,  straightened  the  spotless  counterpane, 
and  called  down  to  the  distinguished  visitors  to 
"come  right  up." 

It  was  Miss  Manny  who  received  them,  standing, 
sentinel- fashion,  by  the  side  of  the  bed.  Miss  Manny 
assured  them  that  Apr  illy  was  as  "smart  as  could  be," 
and  "goin'  to  be  around  in  a  few  days,  mebbe  "  And 
Miss  Manny  plainly  intended  that  there  should  be  no 
doubt  in  Mrs.  Lee's  mind  as  to  the  friendly  rela- 
tions between  herself  and  April. 

In  his  kitchen  Deacon  Lee  had  practiced  a  speech, 
properly  expressive  of  his  appreciation  of  the  act 
which  had  saved  little  Dorcas  from  serious  injury. 
The  speech  was  to  conclude  with  the  presentation 


192  APRILLY 

of  a  twenty-dollar  bill.  "It'll  seem  a  lot  to  a  girl  like 
her.  Mebbe  ten'd  be  enough!"  he  had  considered. 

In  April's  presence,  however,  he  forgot  his  speech 
and  even  the  twenty-dollar  bill  did  not  seem  enough 
for  what  she  had  done — no  bill  could  be  enough. 
While  his  wife  was  trying  to  adjust  herself  to  Debory 
Manny's  "turnin'  right  'round  and  motherin*  the 
Dangerfield  girl  after  puttin'  her  out,"  he  was  awk- 
wardly telling  April  that  if  "there  was  anything  she 
wanted  she  could  have  it,  or  his  name  wa'nt 
Lymus  Lee!" 

April  sat  bolt  upright.  "Really  truly?"  she  cried. 
"Oh,  I  want  it,  very,  very  much.  I  can't  tell  you 
why,  but  I  love  Gull  fax? — your  horse.  And  he 
didn't  mean  to  run  away — he  was  frightened.  The 
old  wagon  broke — he  isn't  used  to  wagons — "  she 
spoke  breathlessly,  half -pleadingly. 

"D'you  mean  Jim?"  broke  in  the  Deacon,  in  per- 
plexity. For  a  moment  he  wondered  if  the  girl's 
mind  had  been  "upset"  by  the  accident. 

"Yes,  yes — Jim !  His  name  is — I  call  him  Gull- 
faxi.  He'll  never,  never  run  away  again.  But  will 
you  promise  to  be  very  good  to  him  and  not  make 
him  work  too  hard?  And  someday  I'm  going  to 
buy  him!" 

Deacon  Lee  hastily  promised  that  Jim — or  what- 
ever the  high-falutin'  name  was  Aprilly  called  him — 
should  henceforth  lead  a  pampered  life  in  green 


THE  ACCIDENT  193 

pastures,  working  only  on  the  days  when  Blossom 
folks  wanted  ice.  Afterwards  he  opined  that  "he'd 
gotten  off  easy,  'cause  if  the  little  lady'd  asked  him 
for  the  moon  he  guessed  right  that  moment  he'd 
have  promised  it  to  her."  And  Mrs.  Lee,  quite  of 
the  same  state  of  mind,  added  that  it  was  "real  mean 
the  way  folks  had  talked  about  Aprilly.  She  was  a 
bright  little  thing,  and  every  bit  as  much  of  a  lady 
as  Nellie  Sneed." 

The  next  day  Miss  Leila  excitedly  announced  to 
April  that  the  doctor  had  said  that  she  could  be  moved 
back  to  Windover.  "Micky  will  take  you  out  in  his 
car  this  afternoon.  I'll  tell  Miss  Manny  when 
I  go  down." 

After  Miss  Leila's  departure  an  ominous  silence 
fell  over  the  houeshold,  broken  only  by  the  squeak 
of  Miss  Manny's  rocker  below.  And,  Miss  Manny 
never  rocked  in  the  daytime !  Something  must  have 
happened!  April  called  but  Miss  Manny  did  not 
hear  her.  If  she  was  well  enough  to  go  back  to 
Windover  she  was  well  enough  to  venture  down- 
stairs. She  slipped  out  of  bed  and  crept  noiselessly 
down  the  narrow  stairway.  In  the  door  of  the  sit- 
ting-room she  stood  stock-still;  incredulous.  For, 
sunk  deep  in  the  little  old  arm-chair,  her  apron  over 
her  face,  sat  Miss  Manny — crying. 

"Oh,  what  is  the  matter?"  cried  April. 

13 


194  APRILLY 

"Land  a'sakes!"  Miss  Manny  lifted  a  startled 
face,  red  from  her  weeping.  She  looked  very  small 
and  very  old  and  very  pathetic.  As  on  that  first  night 
of  April's  coming  she  was  giving  way  to  emotions 
grimly  denied  all  through  her  life.  Of  course  she  did 
not  say  to  April  "I  don't  want  you  to  go  away.  I 
love  you.  I'm  sorry  I  treated  you  so  cruelly.  I  want 
you  to  love  me.  I'm  very  lonely.  I  need  you."  In- 
stead :  "Don't  worry  your  head  over  an  old  woman 
like  me,  Aprilly.  And  nothin'  on  your  feet!  I'm 
havin'  a  good  cry  all  by  myself.  Miss  Lightwood'd 
scold  me  if  she  knew  I'd  let  you  come  down !  I — I 
don't  know  what  possesses  me" . .  and  back  went  the 
apron  over  her  face. 

April,  standing,  a  little  faintly,  over  the  huddled 
figure,  felt  what  was  behind  the  incoherent  phrases. 
Her  well  arm  reached  out,  her  hand  timidly  touched 
Miss  Manny's  shoulder. 

"Would  you  like  to  have  me — stay?" 

Miss  Manny  caught  at  the  small  hand.  "I  ain't 
had  an  easy  moment  since  you  went  away,  Aprilly, 
and  I  don't  care,  now,  who  I  tell.  I  didn't  act  like  a 
Christian  and  I  knew  it  the  moment  you  turned 
down  that  road,  for  I  was  lookin'  through  the  blind. 
And  I'd  have  called  you  back  'cept  for  my  wicked 
pride  And  I  deserve  bein'  lonely  and  wakin'  up 
nights  worryin'  with  remorse.  And  I  deserve  havin' 
you  go  back  to  Miss  Lightwood.  And  I'm  not 


THE  ACCIDENT  195 

ashamed  a  bit  to  have  you  know  I'm  cryin'  or  that 
I'm  sorry  you're  goin'!  You  were  cert'nly 
good  comp'ny,  Aprilly,  this  house  wasn't  the 
same  after — " 

Late  that  afternoon  Michael  Brown  sat  in  his 
automobile  outside  of  Miss  Manny's  gate.  Miss 
Lightwood  had  gone  in  after  April.  As  he  waited, 
he  studied  the  shut-up,  grimly  plain  exterior  of  Miss 
Manny's  house — so  very  like  Miss  Manny's  own  life ! 
Suddenly  Miss  Leila  came  out  alone,  walking  quickly, 
two  spots  of  bright  color  in  her  cheeks. 

"Where's  April?" 

"Drive  me  off  Micky.  I  am  tempted  to  murder 
— or  kidnap — " 

Michael  Brown,  obediently,  started  his  car.  Miss 
Leila  suddenly  drooped.  "The  worst  of  it  is  that 
April's  practicing  my  own  preachings." 

"Well—" 

"She  told  me  she'd  found  the  'real'  in  Miss 
Manny — and  that  Miss  Manny  needs  her  more  than 
I  do — and  that  she  feels  she  ought  to  stay — there." 

"Well— isn't  she  right?" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  "Yes — April's 
right.  But,  oh,  Micky,  I  want  her.  I  need  her.  It 
was  making  me  fed  so  contented,  so  worth  while, 
just  knowing  the  youngster  depended  on  me,  thinking 
that  she  belonged  to  me.  It  meant  home.  I  was 
going  to  take  her  back  to  the  city  with  me — " 

"And  spoil  her!" 


i96  APRILLY 

"If  you  don't  stop  looking  as  though  you  were 
glad  I'll  jump  out  of  your  car !" 

In  the  little  room  at  Miss  Manny's  April  lay  with 
her  face  buried  in  a  pillow,  sobbing  convulsively,  for 
it  had  broken  her  heart  to  let  Miss  Leila  go  back  to 
Windover  without  her.  But  from  below  came  a 
curious  singing — it  was  April's  "Gentle  Saviour, 
Lead  Me."  In  her  astonishment  April  lifted  her 
bead.  She  had  never  heard  Miss  Manny  sing  before ! 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
ROSE  GOES  TO  NEW  YORK. 

With  April  confined  at  Miss  Manny's,  an  added 
depression  had  fallen  over  the  young  Merediths. 
Rose  felt  it  more,  even,  than  the  others.  The  changes 
in  the  living  conditions  at  Forest  Hill  were  giving 
her  much  mental  distress.  It  was  not  fair,  she  wor- 
ried, that  Chrissy  and  Keith  should  have  to  go  with- 
out things  when  she  had  so  much.  And  she  would 
not  find  it  as  hard  to  be  poor  as  Chrissy  did.  At  the 
little  Episcopal  school  she  had  been  trained  to  help 
herself,  to  take  care  of  her  own  clothes  and  her  own 
room,  to  sew,  and  to  cook.  .  She  helped  Mrs.  Todd, 
now,  in  innumerable  ways,  and  quietly,  so  that  no 
one  but  Mrs.  Todd  knew  about  it.  But  she  wanted 
to  do  more — she  wanted  to  give  her  own  allowance 
to  Chrissy  and  Keith,  or,  at  least,  divide  it. 

"Of  course  things  are  dreadful,  but  we're  not 
beggars  yet!"  Chrissy  had  met  her  sugges- 
tion crossly. 

"I  guess  not,"  had  been  Keith's  quick  retort. 
"You'd  better  hang  on  to  all  you've  got.  It's  rotten 
hard  to  be  broke," 

"But  you  wouldn't  be  beggars  or — or  anything 
to  be  ashamed  of !  Aren't  you  all  the  family  I  have  ?" 
Rose  entreated, 

197 


i98  APRILLY 

"Father  wouldn't  like  it.  It's  our  bad  luck. 
You're  only  our  cousin.  No  good  your  mixing 
in  it." 

In  spite  of  her  boasted  confidence  poor  Chrissy 
was  beginning  to  feel  very  helpless  and  very  much 
of  a  failure.  The  month's  housekeeping  accounts 
had  run  up  to  an  extravagant  total.  With  only  old 
Mrs.  Todd  to  manage,  household  affairs  were  getting 
into  a  sad  state,  and  there  was  no  use  bothering  her 
mother  about  them — her  mother  spent  most  of  her 
time  shut  in  her  room.  And  Keith  offered  little  com- 
fort ;  he  jeered  at  her  ineffectual  attempts  at  economy, 
mocked  her  whinings.  In  turn,  she  taunted  him  by 
little  innuendoes,  spoke  of  his  "loafing."  The  spectre 
poverty  loomed  close  in  their  shamed  young  eyes. 

Rose,  sensitive  to  the  increasing  ill-nature,  de- 
cided, quite  suddenly,  to  carry  her  plan  to  her  Uncle 
Thomas,  in  New  York.  Though  the  success  of  her 
trip  demanded  secrecy,  she  wisely  took  Miss  Leila 
into  her  confidence,  and  Miss  Leila  helped  her  slip 
away.  Rose  had  never  traveled  alone;  the  journey 
assumed  terrifying  proportions.  Only  her  deter- 
mination to  win  her  point  urged  her  on. 

New  York  in  the  summer  was  very  different 
from  the  New  York  she  had  seen  on  the  days  when 
the  young  ladies  of  Oakdale,  carefully  chaperoned, 
went  shopping  or  to  a  matinee  or  a  musicale.  And 
as  the  taxi  carried  her  into  the  lower  part  of  the  city 


ROSE  GOES  TO  NEW  YORK  199 

her  fright  grew.  The  roar  of  the  streets  beat  into 
her  ears ;  huge  walls  seemed  to  press  about  her ;  she 
shrank  back  into  a  corner  only  to  be  jolted  forward 
by  a  sudden  swerve  and  stop. 

Suddenly  she  felt  more  afraid  of  her  Uncle 
Thomas  than  of  the  rush  of  the  big  city.  She  had 
really  seen  very  little  of  him;  during  the  vacations, 
when  she  was  with  Chrissy  and  Keith,  he  had  almost 
always  been  in  the  city ;  when  he  was  at  home  he  had 
always  watched  her  with  a  strange  expression  in  his 
eyes  that  had  held  her  off.  Under  it  Rose  had  often 
felt  uncomfortable  and  was  always  glad  when  he 
went  away.  But,  she  reasoned  now,  he  must  love 
Chrissy  and  Keith ;  he  would  be  glad  she  wanted  to 
divide  her  allowance. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  find  her  uncle's  office.  An 
obsequious  elevator  man  indicated  the  door  she  must 
open.  A  young  woman  rose  instantly  upon  her  ap- 
proach to  the  heavy  rail  which  divided  the  main 
office.  Rose  knew  of  no  office  formality ;  she  merely 
asked,  In  a  very  small  voice,  if  she  could  see  her 
"Uncle  Thomas." 

At  that  very  moment  Thomas  Meredith  was 
affixing  a  signature  to  a  legal-looking  document. 
Strangely,  as  he  did  so,  great  beads  of  perspiration 
broke  out  upon  his  forehead,  his  hand  trembled. 
And  the  namt  he  was  painstakingly  writing  was 
"Rosemary  Meredith."  When  he  had  finished  it  he 


200  APRILLY 

blotted  it.  Then  he  tugged  at  his  collar  as  though 
something  was  choking  him.  He  rang  a  bell.  To 
the  boy  who  answered  his  summons  he  entrusted  the 
legal-looking  paper,  carefully  sealed  in  a  big  envelope. 

"Take  that  over  to  Biddle  and  Co.  at  once." 

As  the  boy  went  out  of  one  door  Rose  entered 
by  another.  At  the  sight  of  her  Thomas  Meredith 
leaped  from  his  chair, with  a  queer  inarticulate  sound. 

"You,—" 

Rose  was  too  nervous  over  her  errand  to  won- 
der at  her  uncle's  unusual  agitation. 

"Of  course  you're  surprised  to  see  me,  Uncle.  I 
— I  want  to  talk  to  you — on  business.  I  couldn't 
write.  Keith  says  you  won't  consent  but  I  want  to 
so  much — " 

With  a  tremendous  effort  Thomas  Meredith  had 
pulled  himself  together.  He  had  to  moisten  his  lips, 
however,  before  he  could  speak. 

"Do  what,  child?"  What  nonsense  had  brought 
her  to  his  office? 

"I  want  to  divide  my  allowance  with  Chrissy  and 
Keith.  I  want  you  to  divide  it  when  you  give  it  to 
me — so  that  they'll  take  it.  Of  course  it  wouldn't 
be  a  great  deal,  but  I  can't  bear  to — " 

There  was  a  moment's  tense  silence.  Thomas 
Meredith  was  making  rapid  circles  on  his  desk  blot- 
ter with  a  pencil.  His  eyes  were  lowered.  In  his 
attitude  Rose  imagined  disapproval.  "He  isn't 
going  to  let  me,"  she  thought. 


ROSE  GOES  TO  NEW  YORK  201 

"My  dear  child,"  the  man's  words  came  slowly, 
heavily,  "you  are  very  generous.  But  your  request 
necessitates  my  telling  you  that — you  can  no  longer 
draw  your  allowance.  I  paid  it — from  my  own 
pocket.  I  chose  to  do  it — the  way  I  did,  so  that  you 
might  never  feel  you  were  dependent  upon  me.  You 
would,  of  course,  have  had  to  know  very  soon  that, 
at  your  father's — death,  you  were  left  penniless.  It 
is  very  hard  for  me  to  tell  you  this,  child." 

Rose  stood,  stunned,  scarcely  able,  all  at  once,  to 
grasp  the  situation. 

"So,  my  dear,  you  must  go  back  to  Blossom  and 
try  to  show  Chrissy  and  Keith  how  to  stand  up  under 
this  misfortune."  He  sighed  as  though  he  were  very 
tired.  "I  thought  I  was  giving  my  family  every- 
thing money  could  buy,  but  I  guess  you  can't  buy 
grit  and  a  good  backbone,  can  you?"  He  laughed 
at  Rose's  perplexed  face,  a  sharp  laugh  that  made 
Rose  shiver.  "Are  you  afraid  to  be  poor,  too,  Rose? 
Never  mind,  I  may  be  able  to  straighten  things  out 
after  a  little.  Are  you  taking  the  afternoon  train 
for  Boston?" 

Rose  told  him  she  was,  that  Miss  Leila  was  going 
to  meet  her  there. 

"Can  you  find  your  way  back  to  the  station?"  he 
asked  abruptly.  Rose  felt  that  he  was  anxious  to 
be  rid  of  her. 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  she  answered  with  an  assur- 
ance she  did  not  feel. 


203  APRILLY 

Outside  she  suffered  a  bitter  rebellion  of  feeling 
— not  because  her  allowance  was  gone,  there  was 
some  satisfaction  in  knowing  that  now  she  must  face 
things  on  the  same  footing  with  Chrissy,  but  because 
she  had  no  one  to  whom  to  turn  for  advice  and  com- 
fort. More  than  once  Rose  had  felt  a  tugging  long- 
ing for  the  father  she  could  not  even  remember.  She 
had  always  pictured  him  tall  and  distinguished  like 
her  Uncle  Thomas,  but  unlike  Uncle  Thomas,  affec- 
tionate and  sympathetic,  younger,  too,  and  full  of  fun. 
He  would  not  have  dismissed  her  so  summarily,  let 
her  go  away,  alone !  He  would  have  cuddled  her  to 
him  and  have  talked  things  over;  he  would  have 
shown  her  how  she  could  help  him. 

She  had  been  a  dependent  upon  her  uncle's  gen- 
erosity; she  must  go  on  living  by  his  support  when 
Chrissy  and  Keith  and  Aunt  Caroline  were  sacri- 
ficing comforts.  It  was  unbearable! 

"I  won't  go  back !  I'll  work,"  she  muttered  aloud. 
The  sound  of  her  voice  startled  her.  She  realized  that, 
in  her  agitation,  she  had  walked  blocks. 

She  stood  bewildered.  Men  and  women  pressed 
and  pushed  about  her.  Most  of  them  streamed  into 
the  gaping  entrance  of  a  stairway  which  led  under 
the  ground  to  the  subway.  Others  poured  out  from 
the  depths  into  the  bright  sunshine.  No  one  noticed 
Rose,  except  to  push  her  aside.  Two  girls  paused, 
for  a  moment,  close  to  her.  Both  were  chewing  gum, 


ROSE  GOES  TO  NEW  YORK  203 

both  wore  cheaply  smart  little  hats,  thin  waists  and 
high  heels. 

"Got  fired  to-day." 

"Did'ya  really?" 

"Foreman's  got  a  grudge  'gainst  me.  / 
should  worry." 

"I'd  hate  t'get  fired  now.  Ma's  sick — "  They 
moved  on  and  were  lost  in  the  throng. 

These  men  and  women  were  hurrying  back  to 
work.  Rose  watched  them  with  a  new  understand- 
ing. How  many  there  were!  She  saw  them,  now, 
not  as  a  terrifying  crowd,  but  as  individuals,  each 
with  his  or  her  burden.  She  remembered  what  Uncle 
Thomas  had  said  about  "grit"  and  "backbones." 
These  people,  who  rushed  past  her,  worked  because 
they  had  mothers  and  sisters  and  little  children  to 
work  for.  And,  though  they  shoved  and  crowded, 
they  were  not  at  all  cross — they  liked  to  work,  be- 
cause they  had  "grit."  Even  the  girl  who  had  stood 
at  her  elbow  and  had  been  "fired"  had  not  let  herself 
be  discouraged. 

Rose  suddenly  felt  a  great  desire  to  get  back  to 
Blossom — she  and  Chrissy  must  face  things;  they 
must  work,  too.  They  must  do  something  to  earn 
some  money.  Perhaps  April  would  help  them  think 
of  some  way.  April  could  always  think  of  some- 
thing about  anything. 

They  would  show  Uncle  Thomas  that  they 
ha'd  grit! 


204  APRILLY 

"Taxi?"  came  to  her  ear.  She  signalled 
the  driver. 

"Grand  Central  Station,"  she  directed,  stiffly, 
not  in  the  least  afraid.  "And  hurry,  please,"  she 
added,  because  that  sounded  very  grown-up. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
iNN-You-Go. 

Miss  Lightwood  lifted  her  head  from  her  task  of 
weeding  her  border  bed.  April,  Chrissy  and  Rose 
approached,  arm  in  arm,  up  the  winding  path. 

"Good-morning,  girls.  You  advance  like  an 
army — all  in  fighting  trim." 

"We  are  in  fighting  trim,"  answered  Chrissy 
quickly.  A  new  tone  in  her  voice  made  Miss  Leila 
glance  at  her.  Chrissy  colored.  "Cousin  Leila,  we 
want  to  talk  to  you  very  seriously." 

Rose  and  April  nodded  their  confirmation  of 
Chrissy 's  request. 

"Dearie  me,  what  has  happened?  Can  you  wait 
until  I  wrash  some  of  this  good  earth  from  my  per- 
son? Or  must  we  sit  right  down  under  the  trees 
and  have  it  out,  now  ?" 

"Oh,  please,  right  now." 

"Don't  wash,  Cousin  Leila." 

Rose's  story  of  the  trip  to  New  York  had  had  a 
singular  effect  upon  Chrissy.  She  marveled  at  Rose's 
venturing  forth  alone;  no  longer  could  Rose  be  a 
timid  "prudy"  and  "  'fraidy-cat"  which  she  still  loved 
to  call  her.  She  was  amazed  that  Rose  was  not 
crushed  by  the  loss  of  her  allowance.  Something 

205 


206  APRILLY 

very  determined  and  splendid  seemed  to  have  been 
roused,  like  a  sudden  spark,  in  Rose's  spirit  which 
Chrissy  promptly  caught.  Rose  talked  of  "facing 
things"  and  "grit"  and  "working"  and  gave  it  all 
such  a  popular  note  that  Chrissy  wanted  to  do  some- 
thing without  delay. 

What  that  "something"  could  be  they  were  not 
able  to  decide.  April,  in  whom  they  immediately 
confided,  assured  them  that  there  were  lots  of  things 
they  could  do  but  that,  of  course,  they  must  do  what 
would  most  quickly  bring  them  a  fortune. 

"Maybe  we'd  better  talk  to  Miss  Leila,"  she  had 
concluded.  Accordingly,  they  had  lost  no  time  in 
seeking  her  out. 

"We  want  to  work  and  earn  some  money," 
began  Chrissy. 

"We  must,"  added  Rose,  determinedly.  "It's— 
it's  not  right  to  just  sit  idle  and  let  Uncle  Thomas 
support  us." 

Miss  Leila,  looking  at  their  earnest  faces,  knew 
better  than  to  remind  them  of  the  countless  little 
economies  they  might  learn,  which,  summed  up,  would 
amount  to  a  material  figure  off  Thomas  Meredith's 
debit  sheet.  Their  exalted  mood,  she  felt,  would 
not  tolerate  suggestions  concerning  the  housework, 
or  their  fall  clothes.  Nor  to  Chrissy's  "what  can  we 
do?"  could  she  answer  that  they  were  young  and  in- 
experienced. True,  they  had  first  to  learn  how  much 


INN-YOU-GO  207 

they  did  not  know,  but  they  had  youth's  precious 
assets,  vigor,  an  untired  spirit  and  confidence. 

April,  too  impatient  to  endure  any  long  silence, 
broke  in  upon  her  thought.  "Can't  we  sell  things?" 
Plainly  she  had  cast  her  lot  with  Rose  and  Chrissy. 

"What  can  we  sell?" 

"Yesterday  I  had  hard  work  not  to  sell  Windover 
and  the  Point  and  the  Lighthouse,"  laughed  Miss 
Leila,  "I  was  hoeing  my  corn,  looking  like  a  peasant  in 
my  overalls,  when  I  was  hailed  by  a  party  of  tourists 
who  had  been  picnicing  out  on  the  Point.  They 
wanted  to  go  into  the  cottage.  Judy  had  walked 
down  to  the  village  so  I  took  them  in.  They  thought 
I  was  the  caretaker,  I  suppose.  They  made  no  effort 
to  conceal  their  curiosity  or  their  enthusiasm.  They 
were  from  Ohio  and  it  was  their  first  visit  to  New 
England.  They  wanted  to  buy  everything  in  sight 
for  souvenirs.  One  fat  lady  called  my  little  kettle 
over  the  hearth  "precious."  Her  daughter  offered 
any  price  for  the  old  door-latch  on  the  kitchen  door. 
I  was  sorry  Judy  was  not  here.  She  might  have 
more  respect  for  poor  Windover  if  she  had  heard  the 
value  Ohio  placed  on  it" 

Chrissy  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"Why,  just  the  thing,  girls !  We'll  sell  antiques. 
Blossom  must  be  full  of  old  things." 

"And  New  England's  full  right  now  of  people 
from  Ohio,"  laughed  Miss  Leila. 


208  APRILLY 

"Chrissy,  you're  brilliant.  We  might  have  sat 
here  for  hours  and  never  thought  of  it." 

"Well,  April  really  started  the  idea — about 
selling  things,  you  see.  Now,  let's  plan  seriously." 

The  council  of  four  was  plainly  inspired.  In  an 
hour  their  plan  was  complete — Blossom's  attics  must 
be  thoroughly  ransacked ;  the  antiques  must  be  sold  at 
Windover,  because  the  cottage  was  on  the  State 
road,  and  the  picturesque  Point  and  Lighthouse 
always  attracted  tourists.  Miss  Leila  consented  to 
this  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 

It's  so  lovely  here,"  April  said,  with  a  little  sigh. 
Since  she  had  chosen  Miss  Manny's,  Windover 
seemed  more  than  ever  attractive  and  like  a  story- 
book place. 

"And  let's  have  some  tables  and  chairs  out  under 
these  trees  and  serve  afternoon  tea." 

"From  real  old  teapots.  And  we'fl  use  our  Wil- 
low-ware cups." 

"And  I'll  coax  Miss  Manny  to  fix  little  baskets 
of  flowers.  She  can  wax  happy  flowers — not  grave 
flowers.  I  can  pick  her  lots  from  the  fields  and 
the  gardens." 

"What  will  we  call  it?" 

More  discussion  followed.  April  suggested 
"Inn-You-Go,"  and  "Inn-You-Go,"  by  a  vote  of 
four,  was  selected. 

Prompted  by  this  brand-new  community  spirit, 


THEN  THE  GIRLS  SHOWED 


THE  ANTIQUES 


INN-YOU-GO  209 

Blossom,  at  the  request  of  the  young  people,  willingly 
turned  its  attics  inside  out.  All  kinds  of  treasures 
were  discovered  and  hurried  to  Windover — old 
clocks,  tables,  big  and  small,  candlesticks,  queer  old 
vases,  silver  and  brass  pieces,  dishes,  discarded  door 
knobs  and  knockers  and  stops,  old  letters  with  signa- 
tures of  famous  men,  jewelry,  samplers, delicate  pieces 
of  embroidery,  bonnets  of  a  century  past,  hoopskirts 
and  wasp-waisted  bodices.  In  a  few  days  spent  in 
cataloging,  April  learned  whole  volumes  of  New 
England  history. 

For  a  week  Keith  and  Josh  Markham  worked 
feverishly  with  hammer  and  paint  brush. 

Upon  the  opening  day  of  Inn-You-Go,  a  wooden 
sign,  stained  yellowish  brown  and  swinging  from  a 
piece  of  iron  grill,  drew  the  attention  of  the  motor- 
ists to  the  little  cottage  and  the  Lighthouse  on  the 
Point.  Low  tables  and  chairs  set  out  under  the  apple 
trees  invited  patrons  to  linger.  The  "antiques"  were 
displayed  in  the  living  room  of  the  cottage.  Tucked 
about  everywhere  were  Miss  Manny's  flowers — 
"happy"  flowers,  as  April  had  planned.  At  first  Miss 
Manny  had  protested  at  "fussin*  with  jest  weeds," 
but,  after  one  or  two  nosegays  had  been  finished, 
she  admitted  that  they  "looked  real  pretty  and  it  was 
kind  of  a  change  to  be  fixin'  flowers  that  didn't  make 
a  body  think  o'  the  last  long  sleep  and  the 
resurrection." 

14 


2io  APRILLY 

"Don't  the  things  look  lovely?"  cried  Chrissy, 
sweeping  an  appraising  eye  over  their  work.  "I 
think  we  ought  to  ask  more  for  this  old  locket,  Rose. 
It's  a  dear."  She  held  up  a  quaint  hair  locket  set  in 
blue  enamel. 

"Let's  change  it,  then,"  answered  Rose,  promptly, 
reaching  for  a  new  tag. 

"Girls,  I  see  a  car !"  called  April,  from  the  front 
of  the  cottage.  It's  stopping.  Oh,  it's  Michael 
Brown."  April  felt  a  stirring  of  disappointment;  to 
her  still  clung  the  old  notion  that  ministers  might 
bring  ill-luck. 

The  young  managers  of  Inn-You-Go  rushed  out 
to  meet  their  first  patron.  In  their  fresh  white 
dresses  and  with  their  eager  faces  they  made  a  pretty 
picture  as  they  pressed  around  him  and  dragged  him 
to  one  of  the  tables.  Miss  Leila  brought  out  some 
sandwiches  and  a  pitcher  of  lemonade.  Then  the 
girls  showed  him  the  antiques.  After  careful  con- 
sideration and  declaring  that  it  was  very  difficult  to 
make  a  selection  when  everything  was  so  attractive, 
he  bought  the  little  blue  enamel  locket.  Rose  cast  a 
wildly  troubled  look  at  Chrissy,  but  Chrissy's  face 
did  not  change  expression. 

"I  know  a  very  dear  lady  who  will  be  married 
soon.  I  shall  keep  this  and  give  it  to  her  for  a  wed- 
ding present.  She  has  so  many,  many  things  that  she 


INN-YOU-GO  211 

will  love  something  quaint  and  old  from  Inn- 
You-Go." 

Afterward  Rose  declared  that  she  had  felt  like  a 
cheat  when  she  took  Michael  Brown's  money! 
Chrissy,  more  worldly-wise,  sniffed.  "Why,  that 
little  locket  would  have  cost  him  twice  as  much  in 
Boston.  Do  help  me  check  up  our  sales.  Isn't  it 
great,  girls  ?  Thirty  people  stopped  here.  Let's  see, 
we  sold  the  locket  and  the  candlesticks,  and  that 
Mehitabel  Parson's  sampler  and  Mrs,  Lee's  glass 
doorknobs.  How  many  flowers,  April?'* 

"Ten  bunches.  And  that  green  car's  going  to 
stop  on  its  way  back  from  Maine  to  get  some  more." 

"Who  says  we  can't  earn  money?"  cried  Chrissy, 
brandishing  her  pencil.  "Only,  this  antique  business's 
going  to  be  work,  girls.  And  I'm  tired  to  death  now. 
Wasn't  it  funny  that  Michael  Brown  was  our  first 
customer?  And  to  have  him  buy  the  locket.  Say," 
she  turned  her  head  toward  the  cottage  and  carefully 
lowered  her  voice.  "Who  do  you  suppose  is  the 
friend  who's  going  to  be  married?" 

Rose  was  adding  the  total  of  the  day's  sales.  She 
shook  her  head  absently.  Chrissy  went  on :  "Maybe 
it  isn't  anyone  in  particular.  Did  you  see  him  look  at 
Cousin  Leila  when  he  said  it?  He's  always  looking 
at  her.  Haven't  you  ever  thought  that  Michael 
Brown's  lots  more  attentive  to  Cousin  Leila  than  just 
a  minister  need  be?" 

"They're  old  friends,"  protested  April. 


212  APRILLY 

"Why,  you  silly,  I'm  not  saying  anything  against 
Cousin  Leila.  Of  course  they're  old  friends,  but 
sometimes  friendship  ripens  into  romance.  You 
girls  are  blind.  Why  did  Cousin  Leila  stay  all  winter 
in  this  old  place — I'd  like  to  know?  And,  I  guess, 
April,  you  can't  deny  Michael  Brown  was  here  'most 
every  day." 

"He  wasn't  here — he  wasn't  here  more  than — " 
began  April,  hotly.  Chrissy's  laugh  interrupted  her. 

"You  act  as  though  I  had  accused  them  of  some- 
thing awful !  I  think  it  would  be  nice.  I'd  like  him 
for  a  cousin,  only  he'd  have  to  take  a  parish  some- 
where else.  I  heard  Mother  and  Cousin  Leila  talking 
about  him  one  day,  and  Cousin  Leila  said  he  ought 
not  bury  himself  in  Blossom." 

April's  cheeks  were  flaming.  "He  will — he  re- 
fused a  big  parish  in  New  York.  And  Miss  Leila 
stayed  here  because  she  wanted  to — " 

"That's  exactly  what  I  said !    She  wanted  to." 

"Eighty  dollars  and  seventy-six  cents,"  cut  in 
Rose.  "Our  commissions  for  to-day  are  thirty- 
six  dollars." 

"And  we  have  to  pay  Miss  Leila  for  the  food." 

Chrissy  and  Rose  rushed  indoors  to  complete 
their  accounts.  April  was  left  to  wonder  at  her 
tumult  of  mind.  Why  should  she  not,  like  Chrissy, 
be  delighted  over  a  beautiful  romance  between  her 


INN-YOU-GO  213 

beloved  Miss  Leila  and  Michael  Brown,  next  to  Tcto, 
the  best  man  in  the  whole  world? 

"She's  older,"  a  rebellious  voice,  within  her, 
argued.  "As  if  that  mattered — "  she  could  hear 
Chrissy's  retort 

Jealousy,  all  consuming,  flamed  in  April's  heart. 
By  and  by  Miss  Leila  and  Michael  Brown,  wrapped 
in  their  selfish  happiness,  would  forget  her.  They 
might  go  away — as  Chrissy  had  said.  Well,  when 
Toto  came,  she  would  go  away,  too.  She  would  take 
Gullfaxi  and  go  back  to  the  white- tops. 

The  girls  joined  her.  Miss  Leila  came  out  with 
them.  She  was  very  excited  over  the  success  of  the 
first  day  at  Inn-You-Go.  But  April  found  herself 
covertly  watching  her  expressive  face  for  some 
change — some  suggestion  of  secret  joy. 

"She  might  have  told  me,"  she  thought,  nursing 
an  unreasonable,  but  none  the  less  real,  sense  of  hurt 


CHAPTER  XX 
POOR  KEITH 

"Why,  Keith,  you  act  so — funny !" 

April  sat  on  the  top  step  of  Miss  Manny's  side 
porch,  hemstitching  a  cuff.  Hemstitching  was,  for 
her,  a  very  new  accomplishment,  and  her  needle  went 
in  and  out  very  slowly.  It  was  necessary  to  watch 
each  stitch  closely  too,  and  to  bite  her  underlip.  But 
lifting  her  eyes  suddenly,  she  had  caught  the  strange 
expression  on  Keith's  face.  She  laid  the  bit  of  white 
muslin  in  her  lap. 

"What  is  the  matter?  You've  come  to  tell 
me  something!" 

Keith  nodded.  "I  have.  I've  got  something  to 
tell  you.  I'm  telling  you  first,  April." 

April  studied  him,  frowning  a  little.  What  was 
so  suddenly  different  about  him  ?  He  wore  the  same 
clothes ;  he  was  well-groomed,  as  usual ;  he  had  stuck 
a  flower  in  the  lapel  of  his  coat,  but  he  often  did  that 
— what  was  it?  And  why  was  he  telling  her  some- 
thing first? 

"I'm  going  away,"  and  Keith  dropped  his  voice 
to  a  sombre  tone. 

"Away?"    April  stared. 
214 


POOR  KEITH  aiS 

"Yes.  Will  you  be  sorry,  April?"  he  persisted, 
coloring,  and  avoiding  her  glance. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  demanded  April,  in 
much  the  tone  Chrissy  would  have  used. 

"Maybe  you  think  I'm  joking  or — or  just  going 
off  any  old  place.  But  I'm  serious,  April.  D'you 
think  I'm  going  to  sit  'round  here  and  let  you  girls 
earn  money  and  do  nothing?  Have  everyone  look 
at  me  and  think  I  am  soft  and  a  sissy?  I'm  going 
out  West!" 

"Oh,  Keith,  you're  not — "  Now  April  was  as 
concerned  as  Keith  could  want  her  to  be.  He  squared 
his  shoulders  with  excusable  pride. 

"Ye-s.  West.  Oil  fields.  Got  a  job  with  the 
Acme  Drilling  Company.  That's  Preston's  father, 
y'know.  I've  got  to  start  at  the  bottom,  but  you 
just  see  if  I  don't  get  to  the  top." 

"Oh,  Keith,  that's  fine!"  April  was  in  a  glow 
of  pride.  "Of  course  you'll  work  to  the  top  in  a 
little  while." 

"I'll  feel  like  a  man,  anyway.  Couldn't  sit  round 
here  whining,  you  know.  I  hate  to  give  up  college, 
but  I'm  not  the  first  fellow  who's  had  to  go  West." 

"But  it's  so  far  away.  Couldn't  you  do  some- 
thing— nearer  ?" 

Keith  had  wanted  her  to  say  just  that — to  act  as 
though  she  could  not  bear  to  have  him  go. 

"The  West  is  the  only  place,"  he  muttered.  "Big, 


ai6  APRILLY 

you  see,  things  doing.  I'm  going  to  Oklahoma  first 
I'll  have  to  live  pretty  rough." 

"Oh,  Keith,  you're  wonderful — to  be  willing  to 
do  all  that !  I  know  you  will  succeed.  But  what  will 
your  mother  say?" 

Keith  had  not  come  to  discuss  what  his  mother 
would  say.  "Well,  she'll  fuss  a  lot,  but  I'm  going. 
Dad  knows  about  it  He  talked  with  Mr.  Preston. 
But,  say,  April,  I — I — wish  you'd  say  you'd 
miss  me — " 

April's  eyes  widened. 

"Why,  we  will,  Keith,  a  lot.  Blossom  won't  seem 
the  same.  Though,  we're  so  busy  now  with  Inn- 
You-Go  and  the  clubs.  It  seems  as  though  we'd  left 
all  our  jolly  picnics  and  kid  fun  somewhere  behind 
us!  Everything's  changed." 

Keith  shuffled  his  feet  nervously.  April  watched 
him — he  really  cared  very  much  about  going  away 
and  was  trying  to  hide  it.  It  must  take  a  great  deal 
of  courage  to  leave  home  and  go  far  off  and  face  all 
sorts  of  unknown  dangers !  She  was  about  to  pat  his 
shoulder  consolingly  when  he  wheeled  about  and  lifted 
a  frowning  face. 

"I  mean — will  you  miss  me,  April  ?" 

"Of  course,  silly — "  April  picked  up  her  sewing 
hastily.  Something  in  Keith's  flushed  regard  fright- 
ened her. 

"That's  what  I  wanted  to  ask  you.    I  wanted  to 


POOR  KEITH  217 

tell  you  first  about  my  going.  You're  really  making 
me  go!" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Keith  Meredith?" 

"I  mean — I  want  you  to — I  don't  want  you  to 
think  I'm  a  helpless  simp  or — or  anything!  I  want 
you — say,  April,"  he  caught  at  the  hand  that  held 
the  sewing.  The  needle  pricked  his  finger,  but  he  did 
not  know  it.  "I  care  a  lot  about  you.  I  mean — dif- 
ferent, you  know." 

For  an  instant  April  stared  at  his  flushed,  earnest 
face,  then  she  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter.  Keith 
dropped  her  hand.  Instinctively,  unconscious  of  the 
motion,  he  put  his  injured  finger  into  his  mouth. 
The  little  gesture  added  to  his  hurt  look. 

"Oh,  Keith,  you're  so — funny." 

The  boy  stiffened.  His  face  flushed,  then 
went  white. 

"You  can  laugh  at  me,  April,  if  you  want  to.  I 
wouldn't  tell  you — this — now,  if  I  wasn't  going 
away.  And  I'm  going  to  tell  you,  whether  you  laugh 
or  not.  I've  never  thought  that  you're  like  other 
girls — Chrissy's  friends  and  the  girls  'round  here. 
I  never  knew  anyone  in  the  least  bit  like  you.  And 
I  think  I've  always — cared — a  lot  'bout  you.  And 
don't  you  care  something  for  me?  You  don't  know 
any  other  men,  do  you?"  he  finished  with  a  note 
of  triumph. 


2i8  APRILLY 

April's  rose-red  face  reflected  her  mingled  feel- 
ings. She  wanted  to  laugh,  she  wanted  to  cry,  she 
wanted  to  box  Keith's  silly  ears — she  wanted  to 
close  her  own  and  run  indoors — and  yet  the  boy's 
face  was  tragic  in  its  hurt  and — he  was  going  away, 
far  away. 

"Of  course  I  like  you,  Keith,  better  than  any  of 
the  other  boys,  though  I  don't  know  any  boys.  I  like 
you  real  well,  Keith — lots — just  the  way  I  do  Rose 
and  Chrissy!" 

Keith  caught  at  her  hands.  She  thrust  them 
behind  her  so  his  dropped,  clasped,  upon  her  knee. 

"Not  any  better  than  that?  Not  any — different?" 

"Why — I — don't  know !  Oh,  Keith,  please  don't 
be  so  silly !  We're  so  young.  It's  going  to  be  years 
and  years  and  years  before  I — " 

"I'm  not  too  young  to  strike  out  for  myself, 
April,"  broke  in  Keith,  "and  a  fellow  can  know  his 
own  mind,  I  guess.  I'll  never  like  anyone  better'n 
you,  I  swear  that  right  now.  And  I'm  coming  back 
and  get  you,  April,  when  I've  made  a  good  start. 
Will  you  wait  for  me?" 

"I  won't  listen,  Keith !"  April  cried,  protestingly. 

"You  will  listen.  I'm  coming  back,  April. 
You're  a  kid  and  you  don't  know  whether  you  care 
for  me  like  that  or  not !  But  you  will.  I'm  going  to 
give  you  this — ta  make  you  remember."  He  took  a 
small  ring  from  his  pocket,  captured  one  of  April's 
hands  and  slipped  it  upon  her  finger. 


POOR  KEITH  219 

April  snatched  at  it.  "I  won't  take  it — I  won't 
wear  it,  Keith  Meredith.  I — I  didn't  want  you  to — 
say  all  this — "  The  little  ring  dropped  into  her  lap. 

Keith's  voice  suddenly  softened. 

"Well,  keep  it  anyway  and  wear  it  when  you  want 
to,  April.  But — I'm  coming  back  for  you.  And  I'm 
going  to  work  good  and  hard  so  that  it  won't  be 
awfully  long.  I'll  never  forget  you,  April."  He  rose 
abruptly.  "Will  you  wish  me  good  luck?"  he 
added,  sadly. 

"Oh,  Keith,  I  don't  want  you  to  go  away — I  do 
wish  you  good  luck.  We'll  always  be — I — I — " 
April  tried  desperately  to  manage  her  troublesome 
voice,  to  keep  back  her  tears.  If  only  Keith  would 
not  look  as  though  she  was  making  him  terribly  un- 
happy! If  only  he  were  not  going  away! 

"April,  won't  you  let  me  kiss  you  good-by?" 

"No!  I — oh,  Keith,  good-by."  April  swayed  a 
little  toward  him,  then  drew  back.  His  caress  fell  on 
the  top  of  her  red  head. 

For  a  few  seconds  after  he  had  gone  April  sat 
very  still  on  the  step.  With  flaming  red  cheeks  she 
rebuked  herself  for  not  having  silenced  his  silly  non- 
sense. Yet  he  had  looked  very  handsome  and  very 
manly  and  very  much  in  earnest.  And  he  had  always 
been  good  to  her.  With  a  quick  intake  of  breath  she 
caught  the  gleaming  little  ring,  rushed  indoors,  up  the 


220  APRILLY 

stairs  and  to  her  room.  Pulling  out  the  top  drawer 
of  her  bureau  she  hid  the  ring  among  its  contents. 

"So  there!"  she  cried  defiantly.  Then,  over- 
whelmed with  a  feeling  that  she  had  glimpsed  beyond 
a  curtain  into  vast  spaces  of  life,  the  wonder  of  which 
frightened  her,  she  threw  herself  across  her  bed  and 
wept  into  her  bent  arm. 

"Toto!"  She  wanted  Toto,  she  wanted  to  go 
to  him  and  sit  on  his  knee  and  snuggle  into  the  pro- 
tecting crook  of  his  embrace. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  STRANGER. 

Keith's  first  days  in  the  "big  west"  challenged 
all  the  courage  he  could  muster — a  courage  that  more 
than  once  broke  before  an  overwhelming  homesick- 
ness. The  brave  hopes  he  had  brought  with  him 
from  Blossom,  most  of  which  centered  about  April's 
bright  head,  lost  their  rosy  color;  that  goal  of  suc- 
cess which  had  seemed  so  near  was  very  far  away. 

With  the  other  men  on  the  drilling  gang  he  felt 
absurdly  young  and  inexperienced,  which  hurt  his 
self-esteem.  Though  underneath  their  raillery  there 
was  rough  kindness  and  an  obvious  desire  to  help 
him  over  the  hard  places,  the  boy  found  it  difficult  to 
always  meet  their  banter  with  an  outward  show 
of  good  nature. 

Two  things  helped  him — his  superb  strength, 
built  up  in  clean  play  on  gridiron,  tennis  court  and 
golf  stretches,  a  strength  which  won  the  respect  of  his 
fellow-workers  and  rewarded  him  with  such  a  whole- 
some appetite  that  the  indifferent  food  of  the  board- 
ing-house tasted  as  delectable  as  Higgin's  choicest 
entree,  and  the  long  evenings  of  leisure  when  he 
could  write  letters  home.  Most  of  these  letters  went 
to  April.  They  were  boyishly  boastful  over  the  very 

221 


222  APRILLY 

things  that  were  most  discouraging,  they  valiantly 
pictured  a  future  beyond  all  expectations,  and  they 
hinted,  vaguely,  as  to  that  time  when  success  would 
be  reached  and  the  writer  return  to  Blossom.  April 
had  answered  just  once,  a  funny  stilted  letter,  of  a 
friendliness  all  too  plainly  guarded  lest  it  border,  in 
any  way,  on  the  sentimental. 

In  the  middle  of  August  an  order  came  to 
Augusta  from  the  main  office  of  the  Acme  Drilling 
Co.,  directing  the  foreman  to  send  an  outfit  into  the 
Beggs'  field.  Keith,  to  his  disgust,  was  transferred 
to  the  new  gang.  He  did  not  want  the  change,  he 
knew  the  men  of  the  old  outfit,  now,  and  he  liked 
them  and  they  liked  him.  The  new  tools  were  de- 
layed, too,  so  that  the  Beggs'  gang  had  to  wait  in 
Tulsa  until  they  arrived.  This  meant  days  of  en- 
forced idleness,  during  which  Keith  hung  around  the 
bustling,  noisy  hotel,  trying  desperately  to  fight  off  a 
longing  to  take  the  first  train  back  to  Blossom. 

He  haunted  the  desk  in  quest  of  mail.  "Any 
letters  for  Keith  Meredith?"  he  asked,  half  a  dozen 
times  a  day.  One  morning,  turning  away  after  the 
desk  clerk  had  smilingly  shaken  his  head,  he  frowned 
with  envy  upon  a  little  man  at  his  elbow  who  was 
sorting  over  several  envelopes.  He  bought  a  maga- 
zine and  sank  into  a  deep  chair  with  the  hope  of 
losing  himself  in  the  pages  of  a  story.  But  even  the 
adventures  of  a  daring  airman  failed  to  hold  his  at- 


THE  STRANGER  223 

tention.  Glancing  up,  with  a  shrug  of  impatience, 
he  found  the  little  man  watching  him.  from  the 
neighboring  chair. 

The  stranger's  glance  was  kindly.  In  it  there 
was  a  friendliness,  too,  which  went  straight  to 
Keith's  homesick  heart. 

"Stupid,  hanging  'round  even  a  hotel  like  this, 
isn't  it  ?"  the  little  man  asked. 

Keith  nodded,  emphatically.  "Worse!  Our 
crowd's  waiting  for  new  tools.  We're  going  down 
to  the  Beggs'  field." 

"Drilling?"  No  one  could  be  in  Tulsa  without 
knowing  of  the  oil  boom  in  that  section.  The  little 
man  asked  Keith  what  company  he  was  with.  He 
had  heard  of  the  Acme — Elliott  Preston  was  its 
president,  was  he  not? 

"You're  from  the  east,  aren't  you?"  asked  Keith, 
suddenly,  hungrily. 

"Oh,  I'm  from — all  over,"  the  other  answered, 
with  a  smile.  It  was  a  rare  smile,  it  transformed  the 
tired  face,  it  gave  the  corners  of  the  man's  lips  a 
whimsical  lift.  Keith  felt  its  warmth. 

He  concluded  that  the  stranger  was  prospecting 
— or  already  in  the  field.  If  he  knew  Elliott  Preston 
he  was  probably  high  up.  But  he  was  not  particu- 
larly interested  as  to  the  little  man's  business;  boy- 
like,  he  wanted  to  talk  of  himself,  of  the  work  back 
in  Augusta  with  the  other  outfit,  of  the  new  lease  in 


224  APRILLY 

the  Beggs'  section,  of  the  prospects  there,  the  new 
gang,  his  own  chances  of  promotion,  of  countless 
things  which  leaped  to  his  tongue.  He  rattled  on, 
encouraged,  now  and  then,  by  a  question,  or  a  word 
of  affirmation,  from  the  stranger. 

"You've  recently  come  from  the  east?" 

Keith  nodded.  "Three  weeks.  Had  to  quit  college. 
I  wanted  to  come  out  here  where  there  are  chances 
of  something  big.  My  father's  business  failed,  you 
see.  Poor  fellow,  things  are  pretty  rough  for  him, 
just  now!" 

The  stranger  gave  a  sudden  start.  "Thomas 
Meredith — failed?"  Then,  as  Keith  stared,  he  added : 
"I  heard  you  give  your  name  to  the  desk  clerk.  Are 
you  Thomas  Meredith's  son?" 

"Yes.     Do  you  know  my  Dad? 

"Of — him.  It  is  startling  to  learn  of  the  failure 
of  such  men  as  he — of  such  an  old  business.  It 
seemed  as  steady  as  Gibraltar." 

"He  made  some  bad  investments  and  it  started 
things  going  wrong,  Keith  explained,  somawhat  gen- 
erally. "Lots  of  men  would  have  saved  their  own 
necks  any  old  way  they  could,  but  Dad's  not  that 
kind!"  The  boy's  face  glowed  with  pride.  "But 
he's  awfully  cut  up." 

"Hasn't  he — hasn't  he — "  The  stranger  suddenly 
bent  and  gathered  up  his  newspapers  which  had  drop- 
ped, unheeded  to  the  flooi.  " — a  niece,  a  broth- 
er's child?" 


THE  STRANGER  225 

"My  cousin  Rose?  Say,  you  know  the  whole 
family !  It's  as  good  as  meeting  an  old  friend.  And 
I'll  tell  anyone  I  was  pretty  darned  homesick  right 
that  moment  you  spoke  to  me." 

The  little  man  smiled  his  rare  smile  again.  "I 
knew  your  father's — brother — quite  well." 

"Then  you  know,  of  course,  that  he  was  lost  in 
some  shipwreck  down  in  the  South  Sea.  Guess  he  was 
a  queer  chap,  wasn't  he?  Dad  never  speaks  of  him. 
But  Rose  is  a  nice  kid — awfully  pretty.  She  and 
Chrissy — that's  my  sister,  are  no  end  pals.  She  lives 
with  us,  now,  you  know." 

"She  is  rich,  is  she  not  ?  Didn't  her  father  leave 
her — something  ? 

"Funny  thing  about  that,"  confided  Keith.  "Rose 
always  thought  she  was  on  easy  street.  We  all  did. 
She  always  had  a  big  allowance.  When  Dad  went 
broke  she  wanted  to  divide  her  allowance  with  Chris 
and  me — that's  the  sort  she  is — and  Dad  had  to  tell 
her  that  he'd  been  giving  her  her  allowance  out  of  his 
own  pocket  and  letting  her  think  it  was  her  very  own 
so  she  wouldn't  feel  dependent  upon  him.  Dad  was 
awfully  cut  up  to  have  to  tell  her.  But  she  and  Chris 
are  no  end  game — they're  running  an  antique  shop 
up  in  Blossom  and,  believe  me,  they're  doing  a  howl- 
ing business.  They've  cleaned  out  Blossom  and 
now  they're  cleaning  the  county.  They — I  say, 

15 


226  APRILLY 

what's  the  matter?"  For  the  stranger  had  suddenly 
sprung  to  his  feet,  his  face  white  and  set,  his  eyes 
flashing  steely  glints. 

"I — nothing,  boy."  The  man  made  a  desperate 
effort  to  control  himself.  "I — " 

"You're  not  sick,  are  you?" 

"I  had  a — something,  here,"  he  touched  his  heart 
with  a  vague  gesture.  "It's  nothing.  It — will — 
pass.  I'm  glad  to  have  met  you,  young  man, 
very  glad!" 

Keith  did  not  want  him  to  go.  "But  can't  we 
have  lunch  together — or  dinner?" 

"Sorry.  I  am  leaving  town  this  afternoon." 
Without  another  word  the  man  walked  abruptly 
away. 

"I'll  be— hanged,"  muttered  Keith,  after  his  de- 
parting figure.  Keith  did  not  want  him  to  go;  there 
had  been  an  encouraging  friendliness,  a  likableness, 
about  the  man  that  had  won  Keith's  interest  and 
regard.  It  had  driven  away  his  homesickness,  too. 

"I'm  going  to  find  out  who  he  is !"  And  Keith 
strode  over  to  the  desk  clerk. 

"Say,  you  saw  that  man  I  was  talking  to,  over  in 
the  corner — little  fellow,  gray  suit,  nice  smile — " 

The  hotel  clerk  stared  at  Keith. 

"Don't  you  know?"  he  exclaimed  incredulously. 

"No — never  saw  him  until  just  now!" 

"Why,   that   man's   the  clown,    Toto — greatest 


THE  STRANGER  227 

clown  in  the  world !  With  the  Bushman  Show.  Bet- 
ter see  it." 

"But  he  said  he  was  going  away  this  afternoon." 

"I  guess  you  heard  him  wrong.  Show's  here  for 
two  more  days.  Room  number,  please?"  The  clerk 
turned  his  attention  to  a  stout  lady. 

Curious,  certain  that  the  hotel  man  must  have 
made  a  mistake,  Keith  went  out  to  the  circus  that 
afternoon.  It  had  been  a  long  time  since  he  had 
gone  to  a  circus ;  he  felt  his  pulse  quicken,  as  it  had 
in  childhood  days,  to  the  heavy  smell  of  dust  and 
animals,  the  blaring  discord  of  the  band,  the  shrill  of 
the  steam  piano,  at  the  clowns  as  they  tumbled  out 
of  the  pad-room,  at  the  dizzying  performances,  at 
the  pomp  and  glitter.  But,  though  he  searched  every- 
where for  the  friend  of  the  morning,  he  could  not 
find  him. 

His  failure  pleased  him.  "I  knew  he  wasn't  any 
clown — a  nice  fellow  like  that!"  he  said  to  himself, 
as  he  went  out  into  the  sweltering  sunshine. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

JUSTICE 

The  indifferent  young  person  who  guarded  the 
railed  approach  to  the  inner  offices  of  The  Thomas 
Meredith  Company  had  noticed  nothing  unusual 
about  the  little  man  who  had  asked  to  see  Mr.  Thomas 
Meredith  and  then  had  stepped  on  toward  the  inner 
door.  And  yet  she  had  heard  something  like  a  sharp 
cry  from  the  smaller  room. 

"You — you — "  Thomas  Meredith  clung  to  the 
edge  of  his  desk  with  shaking  fingers.  Across  from 
him,  his  back  against  the  closed  door,  stood  his 
brother,  Alfred  Meredith,  known  and  beloved  as  Toto 
Conge — the  Prince  of  Clowns. 

"Yes — me."  Alfred  Meredith's  voice  was  quiet, 
controlled,  but  his  eyes,  usually  so  kindly,  were  stern. 

"How — dare — you — come — back?"  The  words 
escaped  from  the  older  man's  dry  lips. 

There  was  a  tense  moment  of  pause.  The  little 
man  smiled,  a  queer  twisted  smile  of  irony.  "Dare  ? 
Isn't  that  a  rather  queer  word  for  you  to  use  to — me 
. — under  the — well,  circumstances?"  He  knew  he 
commanded  the  situation.  He  laid  his  hat  on  the 
desk.  "May  I  sit  down?  And  may  I  suggest  that 

228 


'JUSTICE  22? 

you  sit  down,  too?  What  we  have  to  say  to  each 
other  cannot  be  said  quickly." 

With  a  slinking  motion  of  his  limbs  Thomas 
Meredith  dropped  into  his  chair.  His  face  was  gray, 
his  eyes  were  fastened,  with  a  curious  horror,  on  his 
brother's  face.  It  was  as  though  he  really  had 
believed  he  had  been  shipwrecked ! 

"Quite  by  chance,"  Alfred  Meredith  chose  his 
words  slowly,  carefully.  "I  heard  of  your  business 
— difficulties.  I  ran  into  your  boy  in  Tulsa — at  the 
hotel.  No,"  as  the  father  started  from  his  chair,  "he 
did  not  know  who  I  was.  Our  meeting  was  very 
casual.  The  boy  was  homesick  and  wanted  to  talk. 
He's  a  fine  boy.  And  he  spoke  of  you  in  a  way  I 
like  to  hear  a  boy  speak  of  his  father.  He's  proud 
of  you.  To  him  you  are  above  other  men." 

Thomas  Meredith's  face  dropped  into  his  hand. 
His  involuntary  act  convicted  him  more  than  any 
spoken  confession. 

Alfred  Meredith  went  on,  "He  told  me,  too,  that 
my  little  girl — my  Rosemary — had  lost  everything; 
that  she's  working,  now,  up  in  Blossom."  He 
stopped  abruptly,  afraid  to  trust  himself.  He  leaned 
suddenly  across  the  desk.  "What  have  you  to  say?" 

Thomas  Meredith  lifted  his  head.  Often,  during 
long,  sleepless  nights  of  worry,  he  had  pictured  the 
possibility  of  this  moment — this  Nemesis.  Now  it 
was  at  hand — he  must  meet  it. 


23o  APRILLY 

"It  is  true.  I  invested  her  money — with 
my  own." 

"But  how?  And  what  of  those  reports  you  have 
been  sending  to  my  lawyer?" 

Thomas  Meredith  answered  with  a  simple  lift  of 
his  shoulders. 

"Were  they  faked?"  cried  Toto.  "Are  you  a 
forger,  too,  as  well  as  a  thief?"  He  shook  violently, 
his  eyes  blazed.  "Is  that  what  you  call  your  honor? 
The  honor — to  which  I  entrusted  what  was  dearer  to 
me  than  life?  Honor,  bah!  To  you  and  your 
family — my  family — I,  the  clown,  was  a  disgrace !  I 
shamed  you!  I  became  an  outcast!  For  such 
as  you!" 

Raising  a  hand  to  stay  his  brother's  scorn, 
Thomas  Meredith  plunged  into  a  half -appealing  ac- 
count of  his  misfortune.  It  had  begun  in  a  small 
way,  with  a  few  unwise  investments;  he  had  then 
plunged  in  order  to  recover  what  he  had  lost.  There 
was  always,  too,  the  pressure  of  the  increased  cost 
of  the  luxuries  his  family  demanded.  Then  came  the 
temptation  to  use  Rose's  money,  sent  on  each  year 
by  her  father;  just  a  little  of  it  at  first,  then  more 
and  more.  Finally  he  had  had  to  transfer  certain  good 
stock — it  had  necessitated  signing  her  name.  He 
felt  an  immense  relief  in  unburdening  his  mind,  even 
though  it  was  to  the  very  one  who  held  his  fate  in 
his  hand. 


JUSTICE  231 

"It  has  been  very  hard  on  my  family — and  on 
your  girl,  too.  Don't  forget — "  sharply,  "that  it 
was  your  own  doing  that  put  your  girl  in  my  care! 
Now,  don't  you  think  that  it  is  going  to  be  even 
harder  on  her  to  have  you — come  back?"  He  spoke 
slowly,  he  knew  that  it  was  his  only  weapon  of  de- 
fense. "Will  she  mind  being  a  little  poor  one 
hundredth  as  much  as  knowing  that  her  father  is 
a — clown?" 

Alfred  Meredith  shrank  back  as  though  from  a 
blow.  The  other,  seeing  his  advantage,  went 
on  hurriedly. 

"You  yourself  brought  the  girl  to  me  so  that  she'd 
never  know  anything  about  you.  I've  lived  up  to 
that  part  of  my  agreement.  I've  never  let  her  even 
suspect  that  you  were  not  lost  at  sea.  What  are  you 
going  to  do?  Expose  me?  And  let  her  know? 
Drag  the  family  name  in  the  dust?" 

Alfred  Meredith  rose  from  his  chair.  Small 
though  he  was  he  seemed  to  tower  over  his  brother. 
His  face  was  set. 

"Once  before  you  and  my  father  charged  me  with 
dragging  the  family  name.  For  its  sake  I  was  dis- 
inherited. I  am  supposed  to  be  dead.  Only  the 
clown  remains.  A  man  does  not  know  how  much 
"family"  means  to  him  until  he  is  cast  out.  I  have 
thought  a  lot  about  that.  My  life  has  been  desolate, 
I  am  starved  for  my  little  girl.  I  could  have  stood  it, 


232  APRILLY 

though,  until  the  end,  if  I  had  not — heard. 
But  now — " 

"Can  a  man  who's  supposed  to  have  been  ship- 
wrecked fourteen  years  ago  come  back  to  life?" 

"It  has  happened,"  Toto  retorted,  dryly,  "just  as 
often  as  men  have  escaped  punishment  for  wrong- 
doing. I  am — coming  back." 

"But  Keith — my  wife — "  implored  Thomas 
Meredith. 

Toto  laid  his  hand  on  his  brother's  shoulder.  "I 
like  your  boy  Keith.  I  am  not  goint  to  hurt — you — 
in  his  eyes,  or  in  your  wife's.  I'll  make  a  bargain 
with  you.  Give  me  a  frank  statement  of  your  af- 
fairs and  how  much  it  will  take  to  straighten  them 
out  and  start  again.  I'll  advance  you  the  money — 
clown-work's  a  pretty  safe  investment  after  all.  And 
no  one  will  know  from  me  of  our  agreement.  In  re- 
turn I  will  take  back  my  position  in  our  family.  I 
will  risk  a  chance  on  my  little  girl  loving  me !  She's 
Kitty's  child." 

"You  mean  it?"  Thomas  Meredith  stared,  un- 
believing. The  stricken  look  slowly  lifted  from 
his  face. 

"I  mean  it.  And  I'll  break  my  contract  with 
Bushman.  How  long  will  it  take  to  go  over  your 
books?  Can  I  catch  a  train  for  Blossom  this 
afternoon  ?" 

All   the  long  pent-up   worry   and   remorse   in 


JUSTICE  233 

Thomas  Meredith's  heart  gave  way  In  a  convulsive 
sob.  His  head  went  down  upon  the  desk.  "I  don't 
deserve  this !  I  don't  deserve  this !" 

"  Come,  now,  Tom,  shake  hands  on  our  bargain. 
We  won't  think  of  ourselves — we'll  just  think  of 
Keith— and  Rose." 

Thomas  Meredith  caught  his  proffered  hand. 

'Ted — "  Strangely,  he  used  the  nickname  of 
boyhood  days,  "after  all — you're  the  better  man — 
you're  the  better  manl" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
TOTO 

"Miss  Rose?  Like's  not  you'll  find  her  down 
to  the  Windover  cottage  where  she'n  Miss  Chrissy 
sell  antiques.  No  one  to  home  here — 'cept  Mrs. 
Car'line  and  she's  lyin'  down.  Jest  take  that  path 
there  next  to  those  beeches.  Goes  straight  to  Wind- 
over.  If  you  follow  your  nose  you  can't  get  lost  no 
matter  how  hard  y'  try." 

Mrs.  Todd  stood  on  the  step  at  Forest  Hill  and 
eyed  the  stranger  who  had,  at  her  direction,  turned 
into  the  path.  Down  in  the  flower  bed,  Cyrenus 
Todd,  his  watering  can  suspended  in  mid-air,  eyed 
him,  too. 

"Now,  who  do  you  s'pose  he  be,  Cyrenus  ?  Askin* 
for  Miss  Rose.  Nobody  I  ever  remember  asked  for 
Miss  Rose.  Never  saw  him  before.  Now, 
I  wonder — " 

The  stranger  disappeared  in  a  bend  in  the  path. 
He  walked  with  a  quick,  light  tread  that  made 
scarcely  any  sound  on  the  soft  earth.  In  a  few 
moments  he  would  see  his  little  girl,  his  Rosemary 
— Kitty's  baby! 

An  unusually  warm  August  afternoon  was 
drawing  to  a  close.  Chrissy  and  Rose  had  left  April 
234 


TOTO  235 

in  charge  of  Inn-You-Go  and  had  gone  out  to  the 
Point.  April  sat  rearranging  Miss  Manny's  "happy" 
flowers.  Suddenly  conscious  that  someone  ap- 
proached up  the  path  to  the  cottage,  she  lifted  her 
head.  Then  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  the  flowers  falling 
about  her.  Her  breath  caught,  she  flung  out 
her  hands. 

"Toto — Toto — oh,  Toto!"  With  a  cry  she  flung 
herself  into  Toto's  arms,  buried  her  face  on  his 
shoulder,  her  hands  clinging  tightly  about  his  neck. 

April,  child — you  here!"  The  man  paled,  as 
though  from  a  great  shock.  "My  dear,  my  dear,  I 
thought  you  were* — dead!" 

"Dead?"  April  flung  herself  out  of  his  arms  that 
she  might  see  his  face.  Her  own  was  aglow. 

He  held  her  out  at  arm's-length. 

"What  terrible  mistake  has  been  made,  April? 
Am  I  losing  my  senses  ?  I  have  mourned  so  for  you ! 
I  came  here  to  find — " 

April's  face  clouded.  She  looked  like  a  happy 
child  who  had  been  rebuked  for  her  joy. 

"Aren't  you  glad  to  find  me?"  she  burst  out.  "I 
knew,  I  knew  you'd  come!" 

"Of  course  I  am  glad  to  find  you.  But  April,  a 
letter  came  from  Boston,  over  a  year  ago,  telling  me 
that  both  Queenie  and  you — had  died — of  fever. 
The  woman  with  whom  you  had  been  boarding  wrote 
to  me." 


236  APRILLY 

"Oh-h!"  April's  eyes  opened  wide  in  horror. 
"The  wicked,  wicked  creature !  Then  she  never  sent 
my  telegram — after  Queenie  died.  I  begged  you 
to  come." 

"No,  child,  I  only  got  her  letter.  I  thought  there 
was  no  use  going,  then.  It  was  a  dreadful  shock." 

"How — awful — in — her !"  April  shuddered. 
"After  Queenie  died  she  tried  to  keep  me — she  was 
going  to  lock  me  up  and  make  we  work.  I  heard  her 
say  something  about  its  being  cheaper  than  paying 
somebody.  And  I  ran  away.  I  came — here. 

"What  a  curious  coincidence,"  murmured  Toto. 

"But  I  knew  you'd  come,  sometime,"  finished 
April,  triumphantly,  determined  to  let  no  shadow  of 
that  past  horror  dim  the  brightness  of  her  moment. 
"And  you'll  take  me  back  with  you — me  and 
Gullfaxi?" 

Toto  patted  her  hand.  "We'll  talk  about  that 
later.  Are  you  alone — here?"  His  eyes  swept, 
hungrily,  the  front  of  the  little  cottage .  "Can  we  sit 
down  here  and  talk?" 

"Miss  Leila's  gone  to  Kennebunk  and  Chrissy 
and  Rose  are  out  on  the  Point.  They're  dears, 
'specially  Rose.  I  live  with  Miss  Manny,  but  we're 
here  at  Windover  'most  of  the  time."  There  was 
so  much  to  tell  Toto  that  April  did  not  know  where 
to  begin.  She  pulled  him  to  one  of  the  chairs  under 
the  apple  trees. 


TOTO  237 

"And  that's  why  you  didn't  come  sooner," 
laughed  April.  "I've  dreamed  lots  of  time  of  find- 
ing you.  I  wondered  where  and  when  it  would  be. 
But  I  always  knew  it  would  happen.  That  wicked, 
dreadful  woman —  But,"  she  suddenly  stared,  "If 
you  thought  I  was  dead,  how;  did  you  know  I 
was  here?" 

"April,  dear,  it  has  been  the  most  fortunate  coin- 
cidence that  I  have  found  you.  I  came  here  seek- 
ing Rosemary." 

"Rosemary  ?  Rosemary  who  ?  Do  you  mean  my 
Rose — Rose  Meredith?" 

"April,  think  very  hard.  Can  you  remember 
anyone — a  little  playmate,  whom  you  called  Rose- 
mary? 

For  a  moment  April  sat  in  deep  silence.  Then 
she  shook  her  head.  Queenie  and  Toto  had  been 
careful  to  blot  out  that  baby  memory. 

"Nr-no.    Why,  Toto?" 

"Rosemary  was  my  little  girl.  When  you  were 
both  babies  you  lived  together  on  a  farm  in  New 
York  State.  Then  Queenie  brought — you — back 
to  us." 

"And  what  became  of  your  little  girl?  Why 
didn't  you  ever  tell  me  you  had  a  little  girl?  Did  she 
die,  Toto?" 

"No.    She  is  your  Rose  Meredith." 

April  could  not  believe  this.    Toto  told  the  story 


238  APRILLY 

from  the  beginning,  of  how  he  had  given  his  baby 
girl  over  into  his  brother's  keeping  and  had  allowed 
his  world  to  think  that  he  was  dead. 

"You  know  me  only  as  Toto  Conge,  April.  I  am 
Alfred  Meredith." 

"But  why  did  you  let  her  go  ?"  demanded  April. 

Toto  shook  his  head.  "I  thought  it  was — for  her 
good.  Now,  I  wonder — " 

"How  could  you?"  accused  April.  "Your  very 
own  little  girl."  Then,  suddenly,  it  came  to  her  that 
Toto's  Rose  and  her  Rose  were  one  and  the  same. 
"But,  oh,  how  grand  to  have  Rose  really,  truly  belong 
to  us !"  Not  for  an  instant  was  April  jealous.  "And 
won't  she  be  happy  when  she  knows  you  are  her  real, 
true  father?  Toto,  there  she  comes,  now!  Rose! 
Rose!" 

Toto  sprang  to  his  feet.  He  trembled,  violently. 
At  April's  call  a  slender  girl  hastened  over  the  green 
field.  She  was  bareheaded  and  the  afternoon  sun 
turned  to  burnished  gold  the  loosened  ends  of  her  red 
hair.  Though  Toto's  eyes  were  suddenly  wet  he 
made  out  clearly  the  pretty  features.  Even  in  his 
great  joy  he  felt  a  wrench  of  disappointment  that 
Rosemary,  grown,  did  not  look  like  his  Kitty — 

April  rushed  to  meet  her.  She  caught  her  arm 
with  both  hands  and  dragged  her  forward. 

"Rose,  Rose — the  most  wonderful  thing  has 
happened!  He's  your  father!  He  wasn't  lost  at  sea — 


TOTO  239 

they  just  made  that  up.  He's  really  Alfred  Meredith. 
But  he's  Toto,  too — my  Toto — I've  always  known 
him — Toto  Conge,  the  best  clown  who  ever  lived — " 

Rose  stopped  short.  Her  startled  eyes  changed 
from  wonder,  unbelief,  to  horror.  Toto  stepped 
slowly  toward  her. 

"Tell  her,  Toto — tell  her  it  is  true !"  cried  April. 

"It  is  true,  my  little  girl."  His  voice  was  plead- 
ing. "I  am  your  father,  Alfred  Meredith."  He 
reached  out  his  hand  and  touched  one  of  hers,  gently. 
"It  is  a  long  story,  darling,  I — " 

But  Rose,  stung  to  life  by  his  touch,  drew  back 
with  a  shudder.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"No!  No!  It  is  nottruel  It  can't  be  true.  Not 
a  clown!  Oh,  why  did  you  come?  I  won't  let  it  be 
true.  Go  away.  Go  away!  I  don't  want  to — see 
you!"  And  with  a  convulsive  cry  she  ran  into  the 
cottage  and  hid  herself  in  Miss  Leila's  room. 

With  blazing  eyes  April  stared  at  the  door 
through  which  Rose  had  fled.  Her  face  flushed  an 
angry  red.  She  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  then  stood 
silent  before  Toto's  suffering. 

"Don't  call  her."  He  had  read  April's  intent. 
"My  brother  said  she— might— feel  like  that !"  His 
voice  sounded  strange,  far-off.  His  shoulders 
drooped,  wearily.  "I  had  no  right  to  try — to  come 
back.  I  should  never  have  let  her  know."  He  sank 
into  a  chair. 


24o  APRILLY 

April  flung  herself  on  her  knees  beside  him.  She 
clung  to  him. 

"Oh,  how  could  she?  How  could  she?  How 
dared  she  be  ashamed  of  you?  I  hate  her.  I  just 
hate  her.  Let's  go  back,  Toto." 

He  smoothed  April's  bent  head.  "Hush,  child, 
don't  cry.  Yes — let  us  go  away — somewhere."  He 
reached,  blindly,  for  his  hat. 

"Quick — quick!"  begged  April.  She  could  not 
bear  to  stay  another  moment  at  Windover.  She 
slipped  her  hand  under  Toto's  arm  and  led  him  down 
the  path.  Neither  tried  to  speak. 

On  the  road  to  Miss  Manny's,  though,  April 
paused.  She  could  not  take  her  Toto  to  Miss  Manny's 
and  risk  his  being  hurt  again — expose  him  to  the 
scorn  of  Miss  Manny's  prejudice! 

"Toto,  we'll  have  to  go  to  Michael  Brown's." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
AT  THE  RECTORY 

April  waited  in  the  Rectory  garden  for  Toto  to 
come  out  of  Michael  Brown's  study.  She  sat  in  the 
old  arbor  where,  through  the  open  window  of  the 
house  she  could  see  the  outline  of  Toto's  head.  She 
resented  their  shutting  her  out  of  their  council. 
Toto  was  hers — it  did  not  make  the  least  bit  of  dif- 
ference what  Michael  Brown  said  to  him.  Rose  did 
not  want  him ;  Toto  was  hers.  She  would  go  back 
with  him. 

She  paid  no  heed  to  the  song  of  a  thrush  from  the 
cloister  of  the  quiet  graveyard,  nearby.  Racing 
through  her  mind  went  memories  of  Toto,  doing  this, 
Toto,  doing  that.  If  Rose  could  have  seen  him  that 
day  when  the  little  boy  was  hurt  by  an  unruly  ele- 
phant— how  he  had  lifted  the  child  and  carried  him 
out  and  had  stayed  with  him  at  the  hospital  while  the 
doctors  took  stitches  in  the  torn  flesh !  It  had  been  a 
dirty,  little  street  urchin,  too,  who  had  crawled  under 
the  canvas.  If  Rose  could  only  know  how  everyone 
in  the  show  had  always  loved  Toto !  They  had  often 
quarreled  among  themselves,  but  not  one  of  them 
ever  quarreled  with  Toto.  And  Toto  looked  so  nice 
when  he  was  dressed  up  in  his  smooth,  silky,  black 
--*  241 


242  APRILLY 

dress-suit;  quite  as  nice  as  anyone  Rose  knew!  If 
Rose  could  have  seen  the  crowd  of  school  children, 
in  St.  Louis  break  through  the  police  lines  to  welcome 
Toto,  pressing  and  jostling  one  another  to  get  close 
enough  to  speak  to  him  or  touch  his  hand.  Wasn't 
that  something  to  be  proud  of?  How  dare  she 
scorn  Toto! 

Suddenly  Michael  Brown  and  Toto  stepped  out 
through  the  long  window.  Though  Toto's  face  had 
lost  its  stricken  look,  something  that  had  always 
shone  in  his  eyes  was  quite  gone. 

"April,"  he  called 

Michael  Brown  left  them  alone.  Toto  stood  for  a 
moment  on  the  grass-grown  path  and  let  his  gaze 
sweep  over  the  garden  as  though  its  peace  and  quiet 
and  old-fashioned  beauty  were  things  he  had  never 
seen  before. 

"Toto,  when  are  we  going?"  cried  April,  a  dread- 
ful fear  seizing  her. 

"I  am  going  back  at  once,  child.  This  very  splen- 
did young  man  is  going  to  drive  me  to  Boston.  I 
have  never  met  anyone  just  like  him — " 

"But  I  am  going  with  you !" 

Toto  put  his  arm  aross  April's  shoulders.  "April 
child,  I  think,  somewhere  in  Heaven,  Queenie  is 
watching  you  and  is  very  happy  because  her  greatest 
wish  has  come  true.  Even  when  you  were  a  baby  she 
dreamed  of  your  growing  to  womanhood  out  of  the 


AT  THE  RECTORY  243 

ring.  That  meant  more  to  her  than  anything  else — 
she  sacrificed  everything  to  make  it  come  true.  She 
worked  hard,  too.  She  could  have  made  her  own  life 
easier  by  putting  you  into  the  performances,  but  she 
would  not  do  it.  Your  Michael  Brown  has  told  me 
of  Miss  Manny,  and  Miss  Lightwood  and  your  other 
friends.  And  this  is  a  lovely  spot.  Queenie  must 
be  very  content — now.  And  you  have  grown 
so  much!  You're  such  a  fine,  straight-limbed  girl. 
Pretty,  too. 

"Toto!"  wailed  April. 

"Let's  walk  up  and  down  this  path,  child."  April 
could  not  know  with  what  an  effort  Toto  was  keep- 
ing his  self-control.  "I  am  not  going  to  forget  you. 
We'll  stick  by  one  another,  April.  But  I  want  you 
to  stay  here,  among  these  friends,  a  little  longer.  I 
want  you  to  study  and  play  and  grow  into  the  kind 
of  a  woman  Queenie  wanted.  Then,  when  I'm  very 
old  and  Bushman  has  laid  me  on  the  shelf  you  shall 
take  care  of  Toto  and  make  him  happy — we'll  play 
together."  That  was  the  dream  he  had  had — oh,  for 
such  a  short  time — for  his  Rosemary. 

April  tried  to  speak  but  her  lips  trembled  so  that 
she  could  not  shape  her  words.  Toto  went  on: 
"Your  Michael  Brown  is  an  unusual  fellow.  Any- 
one can  trust  him.  I  have  asked  him  to  act  as  a 
guardian  over  you — in  a  way.  I  don't  like  to  interfere 
with  your  Miss  Manny.  And  I  shall  send  you  money 


244  APRILLY 

from  time  to  time.  You  must  not  be  dependent  upon 
these  good  people.  I  want  to  do  it — for  Queenie's 
sake.  She  was  very  good  to  me.  And  I  shall  never 
cease  to  regret  that  I  was  not  there  to  help  her  at  the 
— end.  April  child,  don't  cry !  Tell  me  of  those  days 
in  Boston.  You  see  I  knew  nothing  of  them.  When 
Queenie  wrote  she  did  not  tell  me  things  were  bad." 

April  told  her  story  haltingly,  because  so  much  of 
those  months  of  Queenie's  illness  had  been  blotted 
out  by  the  days  in  Blossom,  at  Miss  Manny's  and  at 
Windover.  But,  bit  by  bit,  it  came  back  to  her — the 
the  worry  of  the  first  weeks,  the  horror  of  the  last. 
Suddenly  she  stopped.  She  remembered  something 
Queenie  had  said  to  her :  "Tell  Toto  I've  written — 
it's  in  my  portfolio."  Had  it  been  about  something 
important?  She  repeated  it  to  Toto.  And  she  told 
him  how  the  Slavosky  woman  had  stolen  the  portfolio 
and  Queenie's  clothes. 

"I  think — before  I  go  back — I'll  drop  in  and  call 
on  Mrs.  Slavosky,"  Toto  answered,  grimly.  "I'll 
have  a  reckoning  with  her — in  justice  to  Queenie." 

Michael  Brown  came  around  the  corner  of 
the  house. 

"Are  you  ready,  Mr.  Meredith?  If  we  start  now 
we  can  stop  on  the  way  and  get  a  bite  of  supper. 
We'll  make  Boston  easily — it's  going  to  be  a  fine 
moonlight  night.  And,  April,  I've  told  Mrs. 


AT  THE  RECTORY  245 

Prowett  that  you  will  eat  the  nice  chicken  pie  she  has 
fixed  for  me." 

Michael  Brown  made  his  tone  cheery.  And  he 
knew  Mrs.  Prowett's  chicken  pie  was  exceptionally 
good,  and  that  April  might  eat  at  the  Rectory  though 
she  would  not  at  Miss  Manny's. 

"Promise — promise  me  you  won't — forget  me," 
April  begged,  as  she  clung  to  Toto. 

"Never,  child,  and  by  and  by — "  he  promised. 
And  he  watched  her  go  indoors  to  find  Mrs.  Prowett. 


For  miles  Michael  Brown  and  Toto  drove  along 
in  deep  silence.  Though  Michael  Brown's  attention 
was  apparently  upon  the  road  his  thoughts  were  on 
the  tragedy  of  the  man  who  sat  beside  him.  And 
Toto  was  trying  very  hard  not  to  think  of  Rosemary. 
Neither  noticed  a  touring  car  which  raced  past  them, 
nor  that  its  passenger  was  Thomas  Meredith. 

Yielding  to  a  restlessness  he  could  not  control, 
Thomas  Meredith  had  taken  a  later  train  to  Bostno, 
and  then  had  hired  a  taxi  to  carry  him  on  to  Blossom. 
He  told  himself  that  he  had  been  a  coward  to  let 
Toto  go  to  Blossom  alone.  He  knew  something  of 
hte  pride  of  his  family.  What  if  they  should  not 
welcome  Toto? 

Forest  Hill  was  wrapped  in  a  strange  quiet.  Mrs. 
Todd  answered  his  summons.  Chrissy  was  "some- 


246  APRILLY 

wheres,"  she  said.  Mrs.  Car 'line  was  upstairs.  Miss 
Rose  had  gone  to  her  room  with  a  dreadful  headache. 
"Wouldn't  eat  a  bit  of  supper.  Yes,  there'd  been  a 
man  stop  and  ask  for  Miss  Rose  but,  no,  he  hadn't 
come  back.  Rose'd  been  alone  when  she'd  come 
in.'*  Yes,  she'd  find  Miss  Chrissy  and  she'd  call 
Mrs.  Car'line. 

Pacing  the  floor  of  the  big  living  room,  Thomas 
Meredith  gave  way  to  an  overwhelming  disgust  at  his 
family.  They  had  all  failed,  too ;  they  were  no  better 
than  he  was.  They,  too,  lived  by  false  standards.  By 
the  time  his  wife,  startled  out  of  herself  by  his  un- 
expected coming  to  Forest  Hill,  and  Chrissy,  with 
Miss  Leila,  appeared,  he  had  worked  himself  into  a 
state  of  mind  that  would  tolerate  nothing  short  of  a 
clean  confession  of  his  own  wrongdoing. 

He  left  out  no  part  of  his  story — he  had  as  little 
mercy  for  his  wife  and  daughter  as  he  had  for  him- 
self. In  his  self-abasement  he  was  unconscious  of 
the  fact  that  Chrissy  was  watching  him  with  startled, 
interested  eyes,  as  though  she  was  seeing  the  real 
Thomas  Meredith,  who  was  her  father,  for  the  first 
time.  Then  he  told  of  Keith's  finding  Rose's  father 
and  of  Rose's  father  coming  to  New  York. 

"Where's  Rose?"  he  demanded,  abruptly. 
"Bring  her  here." 

Chrissy  went  after  Rose  and  brought  her  into 
the  strange  family  council. 


AT  THE  RECTORY  247 

"Where's  your — father?"  Thomas  Meredith 
asked,  without  any  greeting  of  any  sort. 

"I — don't — know.'*  Rose's  eyes  were  red  with 
weeping.  "I  guess — he  went  away." 

"You  sent  him  away?  You  let  him  go?  You 
probably  thought  he  wasn't  good  enough  because  he 
— he  had  been  a  clown.  Do  you  know  what  he  has 
done?  He  knew  everything — everything,  how  I'd 
used  your  money,  forged  your  name,  sent  him  false 
reports  to  deceive  him — he  could  have  put  me  in  jail ! 
And,  instead,  he  has  advanced  me  money  to  save  me 
from  ruin !  For  Keith's  sake  and  Chrissy's  he  went 
on — trusting  me!  He's  that  kind  of  a  man,  this 
father  you  won't  own.  Why,  not  one  of  us  is  worthy 
to  claim  kinship  with  my  brother." 

"Tom,  don't  be  hard  on  Rose,"  begged  Miss 
Leila,  putting  an  arm  around  the  sobbing  girl. 

"No — don't  be  too  hard  on  her !  She  didn't  know 
any  better.  We've  brought  her  up  to  be  a  snob.  My 
brother  sacrificed  all  the  happiness  of  his  life  for 
that.  Well,  he's  learned.  Where  is  he?" 

"Maybe  he  went — with  April.  She  said  some- 
thing about  his — being — her  Toto." 

"How  strange!  How  very  strange I"  cried  Miss 
Leila.  "April's  Toto  is  Alfred  Meredith!  She  told 
me  about  him  but  I  never  guessed  the  truth.  She  did 
not  know.  Of  course  you  will  find  him  with  April." 
She  smiled  as  she  pictured  that  reunion.  What  a 


248  APRILLY 

whirl  of  coincidences!  Some  joy,  anyway,  had  re- 
sulted from  Toto's  coming  back  to  his  family. 

"Shall  I  go  there  and  get  him?"  asked  Rose,  with 
pathetic  meekness. 

No  one  offered  to  go  with  her.  Instinctively 
each  felt  that  the  girl  wanted  the  opportunity  to  make 
up  to  her  father  for  her  first  scorn.  And  Chrissy 
wanted  to  ask  a  great  many  questions,  too.  Had 
Keith  known  that  this  stranger  was  his  own  uncle? 
And  were  all  clowns  really  nice  men  under  their 
ridiculous,  clownish  make-up?  Her  mind  was 
struggling  in  its  lightning  readjustment. 

A  very  terrible  April  confronted  Rose  on  Miss 
Manny's  porch.  She  had  just  returned  from  the 
Rectory.  Her  heart  was  very  sore  and  bitter.  But 
for  Rose  Toto  would  still  be  in  Blossom,  might 
always  be  there.  She  would  not  even  wait  to  let  Rose 
tell  why  she  had  come.  ' 

"He's  gone,"  she  snapped.  "There's  no  need 
your  saying  anything  more  to  him  to  make  him  any 
unhappier.  You've  broken  his  heart.  You're  a  hor- 
rid, proud  girl.  I  hate  you !  He'll  never  never  come 
back.  You've  driven  him  away." 

Rose  shrank  from  April's  anger.  "April,  listen" 
she  pleaded.  But  April  flew  into  the  house  and 
slammed  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
APRIL'S  STORM 

Wretched  hours  for  everyone  followed  Toto's 
coming  and  going.  April's  world  had  now  shut  its 
door  in  her  face.  If  Rose  scorned  Toto,  then  Chrissy 
must,  too,  and  Keith,  and  even  Miss  Leila.  There 
was  no  use  trying  to  do  any  of  the  old,  jolly  things. 
It  was  as  though  a  sharp  knife  had  cut  straight 
through  her  happiness.  And,  though  Chrissy  and 
Miss  Leila  pleaded  with  her  to  forgive  Rose  and  go 
to  Windover  once  more,  April  subbornly  refused. 

Deborah  Manny  looked  upon  Toto's  coming  as 
nothing  less  than  a  catastrophe.  "With  Aprilly  just 
gettin'  settled-like  and  steady  and  forgettin'  her  titi- 
vatin'  ways  it  was  too  bad  to  have  him  come."  But 
his  going  was  a  kind  act  of  Providence.  He  had  gone 
before  a  soul  in  Blossom  knew  anything  about  him ; 
neither  she  nor  April  had  been  humiliated  in  Blos- 
som eyes.  That  April's  circus-man  and  Rose's  father 
were  one  and  the  same  was  quite  beyond  Miss 
Manny's  belief;  that  Rose  had  rebelled  against  the 
kinship,  however,  satisfied  her  with  her  own  opinion 
on  things  in  general  and  circus-folk  in  particular. 
"Of  course  a  nice,  pretty  girl  like  Rose  Meredith 
don't  want  truckin'  with  circus- f oik !"  However, 

249 


250  APRILLY 

Miss  Manny  refrained,  for  which  much  credit  must 
be  given  her,  from  expressing  these  convictions  to 
Aprilly  or  to  Michael  Brown,  Michael  Brown  had 
told  her  of  his  talk  with  Alfred  Meredith,  which 
had  left  him,  in  a  sense,  co-guardian  with  her  over 
April.  That  Michael  Brown  had  been  tremendously 
impressed  by  this  Toto-man,  Miss  Manny  explained 
by  a  scornful :  "Ministers  are  soft  as  jelly,  any  ways." 

With  each  passing  hour  April's  bitterness  grew. 
And,  too,  a  desire  to  escape,  herself,  from  the  preju- 
dice which  had  sent  Toto  away.  It  would  be  very 
easy  for  her  to  go  away;  she  now  had  her  share  in 
the  profits  of  Inn-You-Go.  That  money  would  take 
her  to  Cleveland  The  Bushman  show  was  there. 
She  would  go  to  the  manager ;  she  remembered  him ; 
she  would  tell  him  that  she  would  work  very  hard. 
Toto  had  said  she  was  pretty.  After  the  manager 
had  taken  her  she  would  tell  Toto  why  she  couldn't 
stay  in  Blossom,  where  everyone  despised  circus- 
people.  Toto  must  understand.  If  circus-people 
were  not  good  enough  for  the  Merediths  and  the 
Lees  and  the  Sneeds  and  all  the  other  Blossom  folk, 
well,  then,  she  was  not  good  enough,  either,  for  she 
was  of  the  circus — Queenie's  child.  The  well-known 
bareback  rider!  When  her  thoughts  got  this  far, 
April's  chin  went  up.  Toto  must  understand;  he 
would  be  glad  she  had  come  back. 

On  the  third  day  after  Toto's  visit  April  took 


AT  THE  RECTORY  251 

definite  steps  toward  flight.  She  secreted  the  old 
brown  bag  under  her  bed  At  surreptitious  moments 
she  packed  it,  careful  to  put  into  it  only  the  little  she 
might  need  for  her  journey.  She  found,  though, 
that  her  preparations  did  not  bring  her  all  the  com- 
fort she  had  expected,  that  the  thought  of  leaving 
Blossom  and  her  pleasant  life  here  made  her  heart 
heavy.  She  wished  she  dared  just  say  good-by  to 
Miss  Manny — Miss  Manny  had  been  very  nice  to 
her,  in  her  queer  way.  And  she  loved  the  funny,  prim 
old  house ;  she  might  never  see  it  again — 

After  the  noonday  meal  was  over  and  cleared 
away,  Miss  Manny,  not  sensing  the  torment  behind 
the  girl's  troubled  eyes,  told  April  that  she  was  "just 
goin'  down  to  the  Newberrys  to  get  some  of  Myra 
Newberry's  home-made  ointment.  Ain't  nothin'  like 
it  for  my  neuralgy."  In  answer  April  ran  to  her, 
impulsively.  Who  would  rub  the  ointment  on  Miss 
Manny's  poor  shoulders  if  she  went  away?  "Oh, 
Miss  Manny — just  let  me  kiss  you !"  she  cried,  with  a 
guilty  catch  at  her  heart.  And  she  pressed  soft  lips 
against  the  old  woman's  wrinkled  cheek. 

"Well,  I  swan  to  goodness,"  ejaculated  Miss 
Manny,  staring,  and  wondering  if  "Aprilly's  upset- 
ness"  had  gone  to  her  head!  But  April,  laughing 
tremulously,  pushed  her  away.  "Go  along,  you  dear 
thing,"  she  said  aloud.  To  herself:  "Now,  I  can 
go.  Now  I  can  go." 


252  APRILLY 

Half-an-hour  later  she  tiptoed  softly  through  the 
door;  with  a  fast  beating  heart  she  closed  it  behind 
her  and  turned  down  the  path  toward  the  gate. 

"Good-by,  dear  old  trees.  Good-by,  pretty 
flowers.  Good-by,  everything,"  she  whispered,  over- 
come by  a  wave  of  tenderness.  Then  she  shut  the 
gate  and  turned  resolutely  toward  the  station.  There 
was  plenty  of  time  to  walk  there.  Then  she  would 
buy  her  ticket  and  sit  in  a  corner  until  the  train 
came  in. 

Few  ever  took  the  afternoon  train  to  Boston.  She 
was  quite  alone  on  the  station  road.  And  she  was 
very  unhappy.  The  dust  choked  her,  the  hot  sun  beat 
down  upon  her,  her  bag  grew  more  and  more  heavy. 
The  distance,  as  she  pressed  on,  seemed  endless. 

Suddenly  she  was  startled  by  the  throb  of  a  motor 
behind  her.  She  drew  into  the  deep  grass  by  the  side 
of  the  road  to  let  it  pass.  But,  with  a  quick  grind  of 
brakes,  it  stopped  short  alongside  of  her.  Michael 
Brown  leaned  from  the  driver's  seat. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  demanded,  in  sur- 
prise. His  glance  dropped  to  the  old  bag.  "April, — " 
April  flushed.  "I'm  going — away.  To — to — " 

Michael  Brown  jumped  from  the  car.  Without 
a  word  he  took  the  bag.  "Get  in,  April.  We'll  talk 
this  over."  He  nodded  to  the  car.  "I'll  turn  around." 

April's  eyes  blazed.  "I  won't  get  in.  I'm  going. 
You  haven't  any  right — give  me  my  bag !" 


AT  THE  RECTORY  253 

"We  can  talk  this  over  and  you'll  still  have  time 
to  catch  the  train.  Unless  you  act  like  a  naughty 
child,  now."  Michael  Brown's  face  was  stern.  April 
hesitated  a  moment,  then  climbed  into  the  car.  He 
threw  in  the  bag,  sprang  into  his  seat,  pulled  and 
pushed  the  gear  and  the  car  swung  back  into  the  road 
toward  Blossom. 

"Now!"  he  turned  and  looked  at  her,  his  glance 
softening.  "Were  you  running  away  without  a  word 
to  me?" 

April  stared  straight  ahead.  "You  wouldn't  have 
let  me  go,"  she  muttered.  "And  I  won't  stay." 

"Has  anything  happened  since — Toto  was  here  ?" 
Pie  used  the  name  she  loved. 

"N-no.    But  I  can't  bear  to  think — " 

"So  you're  planning  to  do  something  which  will 
hurt  Toto  even  more.  April,  it  comforts  Toto  to 
know  that  you  are  here  in  Blossom."  Michael  Brown 
slowed  down  the  car.  "He  told  me  a  lot  about  your 
mother,  how  she  wanted  to  have  her  little  girl  grow 
up  out  of  the  ring.  She  lived  for  that  dream.  And 
Toto  helped  her.  He  told  me  how  time  and  again 
he  stood  between  her  and  the  manager,  and  the  com- 
pany, too.  They  all  wanted  you.  And  with  all  his 
other  work  he  taught  you.  And  he  felt  so  proud  to 
find  you  such  a  fine,  happy  girl.  He  wants  you  to  go 
to  school  and  to  college.  Queenie  never  had  much 
schooling,  he  said,  but  she  knew  the  possibilities  it 


254  APRILLY 

opens  to  any  girl.  That  is  why  she  wanted  it  for 
you.  April,  are  you  going  to  throw  away  his  hopes 
— their  hopes?" 

April  turned  her  face  away.  "But  I  don't  want 
to  stay  here.  They  all  think  I'm  not  good  enough — " 

"April,  isn't  it,  after  all,  your  own  pride  that  is 
tormenting  you?  Have  you  no  trust  at  all  in  the 
friendship  which  Miss  Leila  and  the  girls  have  given 
you?  In  Miss  Manny's  affection?  In — mine?"  He 
laid  his  hand  over  hers.  Don't  you  think  it's  just 
for  yourself  ?  Have  you  given  us  a  chance  to  prove 
that  to  you?  Aren't  you  running  away  just  because 
you  are  afraid?" 

"I  don't  want  you  to  talk  to  me  like  that,"  cried 
April.  "I — I  want  to  go.  I'll  never,  never  forgive 
Rose.  Never." 

"Not  if  I  tell  you  that  Toto  has  forgiven  her? 
Poor  Rose,  she  is  suffering  because  of  what  she  has 
done.  She  could  not  help  it — she  was  not  given  time 
to  adjust  herself.  She  did  not  know  her — father  as 
you  know  him.  Come,  we're  back  at  Miss  Manny's. 
What  do  you  say — shall  I  hustle  this  bag  in  and  out 
of  sight  or — shall  I  take  you  back  to  the  station?" 
He  put  his  hand  under  her  chin  and  turned  her  face 
so  that  her  stormy  glance  met  his. 

"I'll— I'll  stay.  But  I  don't  want  to.  You  are 
horrid  to — to  ask  me  to.  I  don't  ever  want  to  — see 
you  again." 


AT  THE  RECTORY  255 

Ignoring  his  proffered  hand,  she  jumped  to  the 
ground  and  ran  up  the  path.  He  followed  with  the 
bag.  He  found  her  in  Miss  Manny's  rocker,  her 
head  buried  in  her  outflung  arms.  Her  attitude  of 
childish  abandonment  touched  him.  Impulsively, 
he  laid  a  caressing  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"April  dear,  I  know  that  someday  you  will  be 
very  glad  you  decided  to  stay.  And  you  must  never 
run  away  again  without — trusting  me.  Toto  left 
you  in  my  charge,  you  know." 

With  a  quick  movement  April  threw  off  his  hand. 
She  lifted  her  head.  Her  eyes  were  quite  dry  and 
very  bright ;  her  cheeks  were  aflame. 

"I  won't  have  you  talk  to  me  as  though  I  was 
a  little  girl!  I'm  grown-up  now,  and  I  can  take 
care  of  myself.  I'm  not  staying  a  bit  because  you 
make  me.  L — I — "  Her  angry  voice  faltered  before 
the  hurt  in  his  eyes.  "Oh — go  away!  I'll  stay  to 
make  Toto  happy,  but  7  shall  never,  never  be 
happy  again !" 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
ROSEMARY 

Toto  had  no  trouble  in  finding  No.  80  Fleming 
Street.  It  was  worse  than  he  had  imagined.  With 
something  akin  to  horror,  he  pictured  poor  Queenie 
there.  Regret  overwhelmed  him  because,  through 
no  fault  of  his  own  he  had  failed  her  in  her  one  great 
hour  of  need. 

In  response  to  his  knock  Mrs.  Slavosky's  cruel 
little  eyes  peered  suspiciously  through  a  slit  in  the 
door.  But  when  one  had  rooms  to  let  one  did  not 
refuse  to  admit  a  possible  lodger ! 

And  Toto  had  his  reckoning  with  her,  though, 
all  the  while  he  was  questioning  her,  he  was  thinking 
sadly  that  nothing  he  could  say  or  do  could  make  up 
to  poor  Queenie  for  what  she  had  endured.  He  did 
not  think  of  April.  He  had  taken  no  one  to  Fleming 
Street  with  him;  he  had  little  hope  of  recovering 
any  of  Queenie's  belongings. 

Surprised  before  his  accusations  the  woman's 
cunning  for  once  failed  her.  She  tried,  frantically, 
to  frame  a  story,  but  under  Toto's  stern  eyes  her 
tongue  faltered.  Then,  in  the  fashion  of  her  craven 
sort,  she  flung  herself  on  his  mercy.  The  woman  he 
called  Mrs.  Dangerfield  had  left  nothing  except  a  few 
256 


ROSEMARY  257 

old  "duds"  and  an  old  writing  portfolio  with  a  little 
money  in  it.  The  money  had  not  been  enough  to  pay 
the  rent  owing  to  her  for  the  back  room.  And  she  had 
used  it  to  bury  Mrs.  Dangerfield.  The  girl — well, 
she'd  run  away,  she  didn't  know  where.  Mrs.Slavosky 
said  she  was  frightened,  then,  and  had  written  Toto 
saying  that  the  girl  was  dead,  too.  She  wiped  her 
eyes  with  her  sleeve  and  watched  Toto  furtively.  Did 
he  have  a  badge  under  his  coat?  The  only  thing 
Mrs.  Slavosky  was  afraid  of  was  a  policeman. 

She  hastend  to  tell  Toto  that  the  old  folio  was  in 
her  attic.  She  had  meant  to  destroy  it,  but  had  held 
back  through  some  superstition.  There  was  nothing 
in  it,  she  said,  but  some  old  letters.  f  She  had  not 
even  read  them — a  dead  woman's  letters !  Not  her ! 

Toto  was  too  sick  at  heart  to  want  to  turn  Mrs. 
Slavosky  over  to  the  law.  Why  let  the  world,  which 
had  acclaimed  La  Belle  Queen  in  the  glory  of  her 
art,  know  of  her  ignominious  passing,  alone,  friend- 
less, in  squalid  surroundings.  So  he  told  Mrs. 
Slavosky  that,  for  the  return  of  the  portfolio  and  the 
letters  it  contained,  he  would  leave  her  without 
another  word. 

Back  in  his  room  at  the  hotel,  Toto  examined  the 
contents  of  the  old  portfolio.  There  still  lingered 
about  the  faded  plush  covers  and  about  the  letters 
something  of  the  delicate  perfume  which  Queenie, 
ia  her  better  days,  had  always  used.  It  brought  her 
17 


258  APRILLY 

vividly  before  him.  And  he  pictured  her  as  she  had 
been  when  his  Kitty  was  with  them.  A  great  lone- 
liness wrenched  his  heart. 


Miss  Manny,  returning  from  the  Newberry's, 
was  startled  to  meet  a  stranger  at  her  gate.  He 
lifted  his  hat,  called  her  "Miss  Manny,"  and  asked 
if  April  was  within  the  house. 

"I  am  Toto  Conge,"  he  explained,  whereupon, 
figuratively  speaking,  the  ground  slipped  out  from 
under  Deborah  Manny's  feet  Face  to  face  with  a 
clown — and  she  found  herself  saying:  "Do  come 
right  in.  Aprilly's  likely  as  not  to  home  'cause  she's 
stayin'  away  from  that  Inn-whatever-they-call-it." 
But,  then,  Toto  had  smiled  at  Miss  Manny.  "And 
Aprilly  will  be  as  s'prised  as  can  be." 

At  this  moment  April,  hearing  voices,  opened  the 
door.  With  a  little  gasp  she  stared  at  Toto,  not  be- 
lieving her  own  eyes.  Then  she  rushed  into  his  arms. 

"You've  come  back  for  me.  Oh,  you've  come 
back  for  me!" 

"I  have  most  astonishing  things  to  tell  you, 
April."  Gently  he  pushed  her  back.  April,  looking 
at  him,  realized  that  this  was  not  the  Toto  who  had 
left  her;  some  fire  within  him  had  sprung  into  flame. 
It  shone  in  his  eyes,  in  his  smile.  His  voice  trembled, 
as  though  he  were  suppressing  some  great  emotion. 


ROSEMARY  259 

"May  I  sit  down  here?  He  indicated  Miss 
Manny's  old  rocker. 

Miss  Manny  made  a  move  as  though  to  leave  him 
alone  with  April,  but  he  held  up  his  hand.  "No,  Miss 
Manny,  stay  with  us,  please.  You  will  be  interested 
in  what  I  am  going  to  show  April.  Come  close  beside 
me,  child.  He  opened  his  bag  and  took  from  it  the 
old  portfolio. 

"Queenie's!"  cried  April,  delightedly.  "You  got 
it !  Then  you  saw  that  dreadful  woman — " 

"Yes,  I  saw  her.  Some  other  time  I  will  tell  you 
of  my  visit.  For  the  present  it  is  enough  that  she 
returned  this  folio — and  the  letters,  undisturbed.  She 
stole  Queenie's  money  and  her  clothes,  but  refrained, 
because  of  some  superstition,  from  even  so  much  as 
reading  the  letters — " 

In  Toto's  manner  there  was  such  great  excite- 
ment that  April  and  Miss  Manny,  silent  with  ex- 
pectancy, stared  at  him.  He  drew  out  an  envelope 
and  placed  it  in  April's  hands. 

"I  want  you  to  read  it — aloud,  April.  Slowly." 
Then  he  leaned  back  in  the  old  rocker. 

April  bent  close  to  the  sheets.  The  familiar 
scrawl,  the  delicate  perfume,  brought  a  mist  to  her 
eyes.  Her  voice  faltered  over  the  words. 

"  *  *  *  Little  April  don't  know,  Toto,  but  I 
guess  my  end  is  near.  I've  tried  to  fight  it  off.  I 
don't  want  to  die.  I  want  to  live,  anyways,  until 


26o  APRILLY 

you  come  back,  so  I  can  tell  you  all  about  it.  I  can't 
tell  April.  It'd  kill  me  the  way  she'd  look  at  me. 
You'll  understand,  Toto.  You  know  poor  Queenie 
and  how  much  I  cared  for  that  baby  of  mine.  That 
was  what  made  me  do  it  Just  like  you  wanted  Rose- 
mary I  wanted  my  baby  to  grow  up  out  of  the  ring 
like  other  girls  into  a  fine  lady.  Only  I  wanted  it 
more  than  you  did,  Toto,  because  I'm  a  mother  and 
mothers  want  things  more.  And  I  didn't  have  any 
other  way,  Toto.  When  I  got  your  letter  telling  me 
you  was  going  to  have  someone  call  for  Rosemary 
and  take  her  away  I  got  the  idea.  It  looked  so  easy, 
Toto.  You  hadn't  seen  the  kids  for  two  years,  and 
they  were  as  like  as  two  little  flowers  with  their 
red  curls  and  their  big  blue  eyes.  You'd  never  see 
Rosemary  again,  you  said,  and  no  one  else  had  seen 
her  and  no  one  knew  what  we  had  said.  Don't 
you  see  how  easy  it  was,  Toto?  I  couldn't  help  it, 
Toto.  I  told  Mrs.  Houck  she  could  go  to  town  and 
I'd  take  care  of  the  babies  and  she  trusted  me  like  you 
did,  Toto.  And  when  your  messenger  came,  Toto,  it 
was  so  easy.  I  gave  my  baby  instead  of  yours.  My 
baby  went  away  to  go  to  school  and  grow  up  to  be  a 
fine  lady  and  not  to  know  the  ring.  My  baby.  And 
it  was  yours  I  brought  back  with  me  to  the  show. 
Toto  even  when  you  was  so  unsuspecting  I  couldn't 
be  ashamed.  But  I  always  tried  to  be  a  good  mother 
to  your  kid,  as  good  as  if  she  was  my  own,  and  I 


ROSEMARY  261 

swore  to  God  I'd  never  let  her  go  into  the  ring,  and 
and  I  didn't,  did  I  ?  And  when  she  looked  so  sweet 
and  pretty  and  the  whole  show  made  such  a  fuss  over 
her  sometimes  I  wanted  to  tell  you  she  was  your 
Rosemary  and  not  my  April.  *  *  I'm  not  sorry 
I  did  it.  But  if  I'm  going  to  quit  you've  got  to  know. 
You  won't  hate  poor  Queenie,  will  you  ?  I  loved  my 
baby  so,  and  when  you  told  of  the  nice  school  where 
they'd  bring  her  up  like  a  real  lady  I  couldn't  help  it. 
And  I've  tried  to  make  it  up  to  your  kid,  and  I  was 
going  to  quit  the  ring,  anyway,  someday.  If  you 
don't  believe  me  when  you  read  this  you  look  for 
that  funny  little  three-cornered  mark  on  her  left 
shoulder  that  your  Rosemary  was  born  with  *  *  * 
You'll  fix  things,  Toto.  The  nights  are  so  long  now 
and  I  can't  sleep.  I'm  not  afraid  to  die,  but  I'm 
wondering  about  facing  Kitty  *  *  *  " 

April  let  the  pages  slip  to  the  floor.  She  stared 
stupidly  at  Toto.  Miss  Manny,  her  hands  clapped 
to  her  head  as  though  to  steady  its  whirling,  was 
softly  exclaiming:  "I  swan.  I  swan." 

"Then — I'm — not — "  began  April,  bewildered. 

Toto  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Take  off  that  blouse !" 
he  commanded,  in  a  sharp,  agitated  voice.  He  stood 
over  her  while  she  bared  her  slim  shoulder.  There, 
blue  against  the  white  of  her  skin,  was  a  small,  three- 
cornered  birthmark. 

April  looked  down  at  it,  then  lifted  wondering 


a62  APRILLY 

eyes  to  Toto's  face.  "Am  7  your  Rosemary?"  she 
asked  slowly.  This  revelation  was  too  wonder- 
ful to  believe  all  at  once.  "Your — " 

Just  for  a  moment  Toto,  with  a  convulsive  move- 
ment, covered  his  face.  Then  he  caught  April  and 
swept  her  into  his  arms.  He  caressed  her  bright 
head,  holding  her  very  close. 

"Kitty's  girl,"  he  murmured  over  and  over,  a 
great  sob  choking  his  voice. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
OUT  OF  THE  RING 

Neither  Toto  nor  April  had  any  thought  of  re- 
venge when  they  took  Queenie's  letter  to  Forest  Hill. 
Indeed,  Toto's  kind  heart  shrank  from  the  blow  he 
knew  it  must  inflict  upon  poor  Rose.  But  the  truth 
had  to  be  established  once  and  for  all ;  after  that  he 
and  April  would  do  all  that  they  could  to  help  Rose. 

Chrissy's  unaffectedly  glad  welcome  to  April  and 
Toto  was  only  a  degree  more  cordial  than  her 
mother's ;  both  had  been  deeply  impressed  by  Toto's 
generosity.  And  Chrissy  loudly  rejoiced  at  having 
April  "make  up,"  for  without  her,  she  declared, 
imminent  failure  threatened  Inn-You-Go. 

But  a  deep  silence  followed  the  reading  of  the 
letter.  All  eyes  turned  upon  Rose.  Toto  spoke 
quickly,  in  a  voice  which  faltered  with  emotion. 

"Not  one  of  you  must  blame  Queenie.  I,  whom 
she  hurt  more  than  anyone  else,  do  not  blame  her. 
You  see — I  knew  her.  She  was  good  to  me ;  she  was 
good  to — April.  She  did  what  she  did  because  of  a 
hunger  in  her  heart  for  things  she  had  never  had  and 
wanted,  and  she  wanted  them  for  her — baby.  I  am 
to  blame  for  the  whole  tangle ;  I  had  no  right  to  send 

263 


264  APRILLY 

my  own  child  away  as  I  did.  I  wish  you  had  known 
Queenie  Dangerfield — she  was  a  good  woman." 

Toto's  appeal  went  straight  to  Rose's  heavy 
heart.  This  Queenie  who  was  really  her  mother — 
she  shivered  at  the  strange  thought — had  done  this 
unbelievable  thing  for  her  that  she  might  grow  up 
to  be  a  "fine  lady."  She  must  not  fall  short,  now, 
of  what  Queenie  had  wanted.  So,  her  face  very 
white,  but  her  eyes  dark  with  feeling,  she  stepped 
up  to  Toto. 

'Tm  sorry  I  was  so  proud  and  horrid  the  other 
day.  Of  course,  now,  it  doesn't  matter,  but  I'm  sorry 
just  the  same.  And  may  I  please  have  that  letter  to 
keep?  It's  all  I  have,  anyway — about  her.  And 
maybe,  someday,  it'll  help  me  to — to — " 

Something  very  brave  in  Rose's  effort  touched 
Alfred  Meredith  deeply.  He  took  the  girl  in  his 
arms  and  gently  patted  her  shoulder  while  she  strug- 
gled to  keep  her  control. 

"Child,"  his  voice  dropped  so  that  it  shut  out  the 
others.  "There  are  two  things  of  which  Queenie 
Dangerfield  had  more  than  most  people — kindness 
and  courage.  I  will  tell  you  a  great  deal  more  of  her 
someday  that  will  make  you  love  her.  And  remem- 
ber how  very  much  she  loved  you.  I  promised  once, 
that  I  would  always  be  a  guardian  to  her  girl.  So, 
you  see,  you  belong  to  me,  too."  He  looked  over 
her  shoulder  at  the  sun-lit  room  with  its  home-like 


OUT  OF  THE  RING  265 

luxuries,  at  the  interested  faces  about  them. 
Queenie  has  her  wish,"  he  added,  softly.  "You 
have  never  known — you  will  never  know  the  ring 
as  she  knew  it — its  ceaseless  struggles,  its  dangers, 
its  pitiless  demands — its  apartness." 

With  a  sudden  exclamation  April  broke  the  tense- 
ness of  the  moment.  "Am  I  Rosemary  now  and 
is  Rose  April?"  she  demanded,  breathlessly.  "I 
shall  never,  never  learn  to  answer  to  anything 
but  Aprilly!" 

Toto,  with  the  others,  laughed  at  her  tragic  dis- 
may. "I  think  you  will  have  to  always  be  April,"  he 
decided.  "You  are  too  like  the  name  to  ever  be  any- 
thing else." 

"And  Rose  Rose,"  she  added,  as  though  it  must 
be  definitely  settled. 

"And  you're  my  cousin — and  Keith's,"  ex- 
claimed Chrissy,  thinking  it  all  very  exciting  and 
much  like  a  play.  "Does  Keith  know  yet  that  the 
man  he  met  in  the  hotel  out  there  was  his  very  own 
uncle?  And  won't  he  be  surprised  to  know  about 
April?  Can  I  tell  him,  April?  And  all  about  how 
you  grew  up  with  a  circus?  That's  why  you  could 
ride  bareback.  Why  wouldn't  you  tell  us  ?" 

April  had  to  explain,  then,  her  promise  to  Miss 
Manny.  She  described  her  flight  from  Fleming 
Street,  too. 

"Miss  Manny  thinks  circus  people  are  wicked," 


266  APRILLY 

she  added,  with  a  heightened  color.  Then  she  flashed 
a  smile  at  Toto.  But  she  won't  any  more  because, 
you  see,  she  has  met  Toto.  She  made  us  promise 
to  come  back  as  quickly  as  ever  we  could,  and  she's 
going  to  open  a  jar  of  gooseberry  preserve,  and  you 
all  know  what  that  means  to  Miss  Manny.  And  she 
told  us  to  bring  "the  young  ones  and  the  writer 
woman,  too,"  she  added  laughingly. 

"Let's  go  to  Windover  and  get  Miss  Leila  now," 
cried  Chrissy.  For  a  moment  Rose  hung  back,  then 
April,  noticing  her  hesitation,  caught  her  hand  and 
dragged  her  off.  Toto  watching  them  as  they  ran 
down  the  path  through  the  beech  trees,  thought  of 
Queenie's  words,  "As  alike  as  two  flowers  growing 
in  a  garden  together."  Alike,  and  yet  very  unlike — 

He  turned  to  catch  Mrs.  Meredith  watching  him 
with  serious  eyes. 

"We  have  much  to  thank  you  for,  Alfred,"  she 
began  awkwardly.  "More  than  I  can — " 

"Oh,  don't— please— " 

"I  must.  For  I  can  say  to  you  what  I  cannot  to 
Tom.  You've  given  Tom  another  chance.  And 
you've  given  me  another  chance.  I  shall  try  and  help 
him  now  and  Chrissy  will — we've  always  dragged 
him  down.  I  can't  tell  you  what  it  means — how  good 
you  have  been."  The  poor  lady  fumbled  for 
her  handkerchief. 

"Why,  Caroline,  it  wasn't  much  to  do — and  it's 


OUT  OF  THE  RING  267 

made  up  to  me  a  little  for  the  years  of  loneliness  I've 
had.  I  tell  you  there's  nothing  on  earth  like  having 
someone  belonging  to  you — youngsters,  too/'  and 
he  smiled  whimsically  in  the  direction  the  girls 
had  taken. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
AT  WINDOVER  POINT 

Not  since  the  wreck  of  the  Sally  Ann,  on  the 
Devil's  Reef,  had  Blossom  had  so  much  to  talk 
about !  His  load  of  fish  spoiling  in  the  sun,  Jeremy 
hung  over  gateposts  and  told  and  retold  how  "he'd 
been  the  fust  to  see  the  little  feller  who  was  Aprill/s 
Pa  when  she  hadn't  any  suspicion  she  had  a  Pa,  and 
him  one  of  the  biggest  circus  clowns  livin' 
and  Tom  Meredith's  brother  all  the  time."  Jeremy 
hinted,  too,  at  his  fabulous  wealth,  beyond  all  humble 
reckoning.  Some  scouted  such  a  possibility,  others 
speculated  as  to  whether  Aprilly's  Pa  would  take  her 
away,  or,  maybe,  come  himself  to  Blossom  to  live. 

During  the  next  few  days  Miss  Manny,  suffering 
a  great  deal  from  excitement  and  the  secret  fear  that 
"Aprilly's  Pa"  might  take  her  away,  a  fear  strength- 
ened by  long  consultations  at  Forest  Hill,  in  which 
she  had  no  share,  baked  enough  pies  and  cakes  to  feed 
the  whole  town.  The  poor  woman's  surrender  to 
Toto  was  beautifully  complete.  She  had  sat  for  hours, 
an  absorbed  listener,  while  he  answered  April's  count- 
less questions  concerning  this  one  and  that  one  of  the 
"show"  family.  The  barriers  down,  April  talked 
incessantly  of  her  old  friends.  "Of  course,"  Miss 
268 


AT  WINDOVER  POINT  269 

Manny  said  to  Mrs.  Sneed  at  the  Emporium  (and  her 
words  were  carried  into  as  many  homes  as  there  were 
listeners  in  the  little  store)  "circusin'  ain't  much  in 
my  line,  but  art's  art  one  way  or  'nother,  and  I  don't 
know  that  it's  a  bit  worse  than  makin'  believe  waxed 
flowers  is  real  flowers.  And  clown  or  no  clown, 
Aprilly's  Pa's  a  real  gentleman,  or  Debory  Manny 
never  see  one." 

There  was  one  tiny  cloud  in  April's  great  joy — 
she  had  not  seen  Michael  Brown  since  the  afternoon 
she  had  so  childishly  sent  him  away.  And  she  wanted 
so  much  to  pour  out  to  him  all  the  wonderful  plans 
that  were  forming  in  such  magic  fashion.  Was  he  just 
staying  away  to  show  her  that  he  thought  her  child- 
ish ?  As  she  walked  alone  on  Windover  she  frowned 
at  such  a  suggestion.  Well,  she  didn't  care — now. 
She  had  Toto.  She  was  Toto's.  Michael  Brown  could 
forget  all  about  her — he  would  probably  fall  in  love 
with  Miss  Leila  as  Chrissy  had  forseen. 

Tempted  by  their  cool  shelter,  April  snug- 
gled among  the  high  rocks  at  the  edge  of  the  Point. 
The  tide  was  coming  in.  Below  her  the  sea-green 
water  eddied  and  swirled,  lapping  the  rocks  with  a 
sleepy  music.  Scarcely  conscious  that  she  did  so, 
April  began  to  sing  softly — one  of  Miss  Manny's 
hymns.  The  sound  floated  back  to  Michael  Brown 
as  he  came  across  the  Point,  and  quickened  his  steps. 

To  announce  his  coming  he  sent  a  loose  stone 


270  APRILLY 

hurtling  over  the  girl's  head  into  the  green  water. 
"Oh,  goodness,"  she  cried,  lifting  a  startled,  laughing 
face.  He  jumped  down  to  her  hiding  place. 

"May  I  ?  Your  song  gave  you  away.  I  haven't 
seen  you  for  so  long  that  I  ought  to  wait  for 
an  introduction." 

April  moved  invitingly  to  one  side  to  make  room 
for  him.  Her  smile  betrayed  her  delight  at 
his  coming. 

"I  thought  you  were  trying  to  punish  me  for — 
running  away.  You  ought  to  know  how  I've  wanted 
to  see  you  to  tell  you  everything  that  has  happened. 
Oh,  so  much." 

"I  went  to  a  wedding  in  Portland.  By  the  way, 
I  gave  that  little  locket  to  the  bride  and  I  told  her 
about  Inn-You-Go  and  you  girls.  They're  going  to 
stop  off  here  on  their  way  back  to  Portland." 

"Oh-h!"  cried  April,  turning  suddenly  rose-red. 
"Then  you  didn't—" 

"But  I  hadn't  been  back  an  hour  before  Jeremy 
told  me  of  all  that  has  happened.  And  your  father 
called  on  me  this  morning.  April,  dear,  I  am  tre- 
mendously happy  that  everything  has  turned  out 
as  it  has." 

"But  did  he  tell  you  everything?"  demanded 
April,  excitedly.  "There's  so  much  that  I  have  to  sit 
tight  still  and  make  myself  believe  it's  all  true.  It's 
lik«  a  fairy  story,  on — or  as  though  a  magic  wand 


AT  WINDOVER  POINT  571 

had  waved  over  my  head.  Everytime  I  look  at  Toto 
I  want  to  hug  him,  so's  to  feel  him,  and  I  whisper 
'Father !  Father !'  It's  so  beautiful  and  strange.  And 
he's  been  telling  me  about  my  own  little  mother.  We're 
going  to  buy  Windover.  It's  going  to  be  ours  forever 
and  ever,  ghosts  and  all,  though  there  really  aren't 
ghosts,youknow,they'rejustwindvoices.  We're  going 
to  live  there  soon's  Miss  Leila  goes  away.  Only  I'll  be 
in  school  most  of  the  time.  I'm  going  back  with 
Chrissy  and  Rose  to  Oakdale.  Then  I'm  going  to 
college.  And  then  Toto  and  I  are  going  way  around 
the  world — everywhere.  And  Rose  has  promised 
that  she'll  live  with  us — part  of  the  time.  And,  oh, 
Toto  has  bought  Gullfaxi.  He  belonged  to  the  show, 
once,  and  we — Toto  and  I,  can't  bear  to  have  him 
working,  now  he's  old.  There,  isn't  that  a  lot  to 
happen  all  at  once?" 

Michael  Brown  was  intently  watching  the  eager 
face.  He  recalled  that  first  time  he  had  seen  it — in 
his  wardrobe.  It  had  changed  since  then.  Suddenly 
he  realized  April  was  older — spirited  still,  but  not  the 
"wildy"  thing  of  those  first  weeks  of  her  stay 
in  Blossom. 

"Yes,  that  is  a  lot  to  happen  all  at  once.  Fairies 
have  been  here,  I  think.  And  I'm  not  your  guardian, 
anymore."  He  assumed  deep  regret.  "Who's  going 
to  take  care  of  you  after  this,  when  the  April-storms 
blow  up?" 


27a  APRILLY 

April  flushed.  "I'm  sorry  I  told  you  to — go 
away.  And  that  I  never  wanted  to  see  you  again.  I 
didn't  mean  it.  Miss  Manny  says  tongues  are  the 
Old  Harry's  pitchforks.  I  guess  mine  is,  for  it 
always  gets  away  from  me.  But  someday  I'll  learn 
everything."  She  let  her  eyes  turn,  in  dreamy  con- 
templation, to  the  green-blue  stretch  of  water  before 
them.  "Oh,  there's  so  much  I  want  to  learn." 

Michael  Brown  lifted  her  small  hand  from  the 
rock  on  which  it  rested.  He  counted  off  on 
her  fingers. 

"One  year — at  Oakdale.  Another — at  college, 
and  another,  and  another — "  Suddenly  he  noticed 
the  small  seal  ring  on  her  little  ringer.  He  recognized 
it  as  one  Keith  had  always  worn.  He  frowned. 

"Isn't  that  Keith's?" 

A  deep  flush  crimsoned  April's  cheeks.  She 
pulled  her  hand  away  and  sat  on  it. 

"Yes — it's — Keith's.      I — I   wear   it — he   asked 


"Why,  that's  all  right,  my  dear."  Her  confusion 
annoyed  him.  "Only  I — well,  Keith's  a  nice  boy. 
But  never  forget  that  you  have  ahead  of  you  six  very 
happy  years  of  girlhood,  and  don't  let  Keith,  or 
anyone  else,  cheat  you  of  one  hour  of  them.  I'm 
off  now — good-bye,  little  April."  There  was  an 
absurd  seriousness  in  his  tone — a  curious  hint  of  dis- 
appointment. He  had  jumped  to  his  feet,  as  he  spoke, 


AT  WINDOVER  POINT  273 

so  that  April  could  not  answer.  "I'm  going  home  by 
the  Cove,  I  think.  I  like  the  exercise  and  the  excite- 
ment of  jumping  the  shallows."  Whereupon  he 
made  a  leap  to  the  rocks  below  and  disappeared 
around  a  jutting  headland. 

An  amazing,  puzzling  anger  swept  April — 
whether  at  herself  or  Michael  Brown  or  poor,  de- 
fenseless Keith  she  did  not  know.  Why  had  she  not 
told  him  she  only  wore  the  little  ring  because  she 
felt  so  grateful  to  Keith  for  finding  Toto?  And  why 
had  he  spoken  in  that  queer,  half -angry  tone?  And 
why  had  he  left  her  so  abruptly? 

Impulsively  she  tore  the  little  ring  from  her 
finger  and  flung  it  away.  It  fell  into  a  mossy  crevice 
in  the  rocks  below. — just  a  little  above  tide  mark. 

And  he  was  not  going  to  marry  Miss  Leila! 
He  had  given  the  little  locket  to  some  one  else. 
Chrissy  had  been  wrong.  Oh,  she  was  so  glad,  so 
very  glad,  that  she  felt  a  curious  singing  within  her. 
Then  she  covered  her  face  that  she  might  shut  out  the 
green-blue  water  and  the  cloudless  sky,  everything — 
except  the  memory  of  that  queer,  disappointed  look 
in  Michael  Brown's  eyes. 


18 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
APRIL'S  SUNSHINE 

On  a  June  afternoon  two  young  women  im- 
patiently paced  the  small  platform  of  the  Blossom 
station.  There  was  about  them  an  air  of  festive 
excitement,  as  though  the  day  and  the  hour  stood  out 
from  all  its  fellows.  They  nodded  to  others  who 
were  waiting  for  the  train  from  Boston,  and  their 
smiling  faces  seemed  to  say:  "You  know  April's 
coming,  don't  you?" 

"Do  you  think  April  will  be  changed?"  asked 
Rose,  in  a  moment's  alarm.  "Two  years  are  so 
dreadfully  long!" 

"April  changed?  Of  course  not,"  cried  Chrissy. 
Then,  more  seriously:  "We're  the  ones  who  h^ve 
changed,  Rose.  And  April  will  notice  it  bee/use 
she's  been  traveling  around  having  a  good  time  while 
we've  been  working." 

"But  we've  written  to  her  about  everything 
we're  doing." 

"Oh,  letters  aren't  the  same  as  seeing  people. 
When  I  look  at  you  I  can't  believe  that  you're  the 
little  jump-at-a-mouse  who  came  out  of  that  Tarry- 
town  school.  And  you're  Mrs.  Stuyvesant  Battle's 
secretary !  April  won't  know  from  anything  you've 

274 


APRIL'S  SUNSHINE  275 

written  to  her  how  many  wanted  that  position,  and 
how  Mrs.  Battle  picked  you  out  of  the  whole  bunch. 
And  I'm  sure  I  haven't  even  hinted  at  my  own  des- 
perate struggles,"  laughed  Chrissy,  with  a  modesty 
she  had  not  known  in  her  girlhood  days. 

"You're  wonderful,  Chris."  And  Rose  turned 
adoring  eyes  upon  her  companion.  "The  way  you've 
persisted  and  gone  ahead.  I  cut  your  picture  out  of 
the  Times  to  show  April.  And  we'll  take  her  as  soon 
as  ever  we  can  to  see  your  collection  in  the  Mer- 
cer Galleries." 

"Rose — there's  the  whistle!" 

On  the  Boston  train,  her  nose  flattened  in  childish 
fashion  against  the  smudgy  window,  April  watched, 
with  fast-beating  heart,  for  the  first  glimpse  of  Bios- 
som.  Dear  old  Blossom — how  very  long  ago  seemed 
that  day  when  she  and  Toto  had  closed  Windover 
and  started  on  their  travels.  And  how  very  long  ago 
that  other  afternoon  when  she,  a  desolate  little  girl, 
had  traveled  to  Blossom  for  the  first  time  on  this  very 
train.  Most  certainly  her  good  fairies  had  journeyed 
with  her !  She  suddenly  reached  out  for  Toto's  hand. 
It  was  so  wonderful  to  feel  that  that  horror  of  lone- 
liness could  never,  never  come  again ! 

"Toto,"  she  cried,  suddenly,  "Am  I  changed? 
Will  the  girls  think  I'm  different?  Am  I  dreadfully 
grown-up?" 

Alfred  Meredith  studied  her  eager  face  with  pre- 


276  APRILLY 

tended  seriousness.  "N-no.  I  can't  say,  honestly, 
that  you  seem  at  all  grown-up.  But  if  your  friends 
think  so  I'll  tell  them  of  a  few  pranks  you've  com- 
mitted in  the  last  few  months — " 

Don't  you  dare!  Oh,  Toto,  we're  there!  See, 
that's  old  Timothy  Hawkin's  barn.  Oh,  oh,  isn't  it 
grand  to  go  home  ?  Toto,  isn't  it  wonderful  to  have 
a  jolly,  cosy,  wee  home  to  go  home  to?" 

April  was  the  first  to  alight  from  the  train.  She 
did  not  wait  for  it  to  stop.  In  a  flash  she  had  her 
arms  about  her  friends,  trying  vainly  to  embrace 
them  both  at  once.  Her  eyes  swept  the  platform; 
her  smile  included  every  familiar  face.  But  where 
was  Keith?  And  where  was  Michael  Brown?  And 
where  was  Miss  Manny?  And  where  was  Jeremy? 

Keith  had  not  come  to  the  station.  Chrissy  ex- 
plained some  vague  reason,  and  the  tiniest  frown 
puckered  April's  brow.  Miss  Manny  was  waiting  for 
them  at  Windover.  And  Michael  Brown — neither 
Chrissy  nor  Rose  knew  where  he  was.  And  poor  old 
Jeremy  was  dead. 

"Oh,  well,  it's  just  wonderful  seeing  you  two  old 
girls.  Doesn't  Toto  look  splendid?  Oh,  I  have  so 
much  to  tell  you !  And  so  much  to  ask  you.  How 
great  you  both  look.  You're  not  a  bit  different. 
Ami?" 

Rose  and  Chrissy,  in  one  voice,  declared  she  had 
not  changed  in  the  slightest,  at  which  April  flashed  an 


APRIL'S  SUNSHINE  277 

impudent  challenge  at  Toto.  Chrissy  led  the  way  to  a 
smart  little  touring  car.  Rose  whispered  to  April 
that  it  was  Chrissy's  own  car— bought  for  her 
"work." 

"And  Blossom's  just  the  same,  too.  Oh,  there's 
Mrs.  Lee!''  April  leaned  out  of  the  car  to  wave  a 
happy  greeting.  "And  there's  Miss  Manny's — the 
darling,  old,  shut-up  house.  And,  oh,  what  has  hap- 
pened to  St.  Stephen's?  How  beautiful!"  AprU 
stared  at  the  pile  of  gray  stone  which  replaced  the 
old  church.  "It's  like  some  dear  old-world  chapel." 

"Miss  Leila  gave  it  to  Blossom — and  to  Michael 
Brown,"  explained  Chrissy.  "It's  just  finished, 
though  it  looks  as  though  it  had  always  been  there, 
doesn't  it?  Isn't  that  just  the  sort  of  thing  Leila 
Lightwood  would  do?  Michael  Brown  refused  a 
call  from  a  parish  in  Boston,  and  she  said  that  if  he 
wouldn't  leave  Blossom  he  must  have  a  church  here 
that  looked  like  the  sort  of  religion  he  preached. 
And  doesn't  it?  It's  so  simple — and  yet  perfect. 
People  come  from  all  over  to  look  at  it  Mother 
thinks  Leila's  crazy  to  spend  her  money  the  way  she 
does,  but  Leila  says  it's  her  shrine,  and  she's  going 
to  make  pilgrimages  to  it.  I'd  like  to  be  married 
in  it." 

Over  her  shoulder  April  studied  the  little  church. 
Absurdly,  at  this  moment,  Chrissy's  old  suggestion 
concerning  Michael  Brown  and  Miss  Leila  returned 


278  APRILLY 

to  her,  ana  with  it  the  old,  unreasonable  jealousy. 
Miss  Leila  had  met  them  when  their  boat  docked  in 
New  York,  they  had  spent  the  day  with  her  and  she 
had  said  nothing  of  her  "shrine." 

Miss  Manny  met  them  on  the  path  to  Windover. 
She  had  spent  days  in  loving  toil,  airing  the  little 
house,  weeding  the  flowerbeds,  arranging  "real" 
flowers  on  the  old  shelf  over  the  fireplace,  the  pine 
table,  the  deep  window  ledges.  The  little  cottage  had 
never  looked  more  "ship-shape,"  even  in  the  days  of 
Mistress  Priscilla  Blossom.  And  the  wind-voices, 
which  for  generations,  had  been  the  ghosts  of  Wind- 
over,  shrilled  a  welcome  down  the  old  chimney.  A 
few  apple  blossoms  lingered  on  the  trees;  more  car- 
peted the  ground.  Over  everything  was  the  soft 
green  of  the  spring.  And  beyond,  like  a  staunch 
sentinel,  still  stood  the  old  Lighthouse. 

Miss  Manny  had  tea  ready  for  the  travelers  and 
— gooseberry  preserve !  Then  they  all  sat  under  the 
apple  trees  and  tried,  in  a  very  few  minutes,  to  cover 
the  experiences  of  the  two  years. 

"Girls,"  cried  April,  suddenly,  "I  am  downright 
ashamed  of  myself  when  I  see  how  far  ahead  of  me 
you  two  have  gone!  You're  both  established — as 
we  used  to  say  in  college,  Chris.  I've  heard  such 
wonderful  things  of  your  work.  Miss  Leila  told  me. 
Do  you  suppose  your  success  as  an  art  collector  grew 
out  of  our  dear  Inn-You-Go?  And,  now,  please, 


APRIL'S  SUNSHINE  279 

will  you  tell  me  just  what  /  am  to  become  ?  Because, 
I'll  bravely  confess  it,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  those 
poor  professors  at  college  I  don't  seem  to  be  pro- 
ficient in  anything.  I'm  afraid,"  she  smiled  archly 
at  Miss  Manny,  "I  can't  even  turn  a  somersault  on  a 
horse's  back,  anymore!" 

"There's  a  sight  to  do  in  this  old  house,"  Miss 
Manny  hastened  to  assure  her,  "that's  just  waitin'  for 
hands  that  can  do  it.  'Tain't  fit  for  real  folks  to 
live  in." 

"Oh,  it's — beautiful!"  rebuked  April,  with  a 
happy  sigh. 

When  the  girls  had  gone  back  to  Forest  Hill  April 
left  Toto  to  examine  the  cottage  under  Miss  Manny's 
critical  direction,  and  ran  out  on  the  Point.  She 
could  not  believe  she  was  at  Windover  until  she  had 
raced  its  length,  had  felt  the  sea-wind  whip  against 
her  cheeks.  Flushed,  disheveled,  happier  than  she 
had  ever  been  in  her  whole  life,  she  dropped  down 
into  the  familiar  nook  in  the  rocks  at  the  edge  of 
the  Point. 

She  recalled,  with  a  thrill  at  being  back  among 
them,  the  jolly  picnics  they  had  had  among  these 
old  rocks,  the  happy  hours  when  they  had  lolled,  with 
girlish  abandon,  in  the  warmth  of  the  sun,  reveling 
in  their  aloofness  from  all  the  world.  And  another 
afternoon  came,  with  disturbing  vividness,  to  her 
mind,  when  Michael  Brown  had  found  her  there, 


28o  APRILLY 

had  talked  to  her  so  strangely  and  then  had  gone 
away. 

April  clasped  her  arms  about  her  knees  and 
rested  her  small  chin  upon  them.  Her  eyes,  as  they 
stared  out  across  the  water,  were  dark  with  feeling. 
She  had  had  her  "six  happy  years  of  girlhood."  And, 
oh,  they  had  been  happy  years !  And  now — she  must 
meet  Keith  and  give  him  his  answer. 

At  the  thought  a  tiny,  inward  voice,  which  had 
bothered  her  much  of  late,  rebelled  stormily.  Was 
Keith  the  dear  lover  of  her  dreams — the  one  who 
must  come,  someday,  and  stand  before  her  and,  with 
tender  passion,  claim  her?  With  Keith — they  knew 
each  other  so  well — there  would  be  no  delightful 
discovering  of  hidden  qualities  and  dear  weaknesses, 
or  funny  little  faults  to  be  understood  and  forgiven, 
that  quest  which  must,  April  thought,  make  an  en- 
gagement so  precious,  so  intimate,  so  enduring.  She 
would  always  know  just  how  he  would  look  at  all 
times,  what  he  would  say,  what  he  would  think  about 
everything — what  he  liked  to  eat.  He  always  wore 
greenish  or  brownish  neckties,  and  hated  mayonnaise 
dressing  and  loathed  people  reading  aloud.  Where 
could  there  be  Romance  between  them  ?  Were  none 
of  her  girl-dreams  to  come  true?  Was  it  Love?  She 
knew  she  was  very,  very  fond  of  Keith,  that  there 
was  not  any  sacrifice  too  great  to  make  for  such  an 
affection.  On  the  two  occasions  since  he  had  gone 


APRIL'S  SUNSHINE  281 

west,  when  his  vacation  had  coincided  with  hers,  she 
had  been  very,  very  glad  to  see  him,  very  happy  to  be 
with  him.  And  yet  the  feeling  was  so  absurdly  a 
part  of  her — like  her  love  for  Rose  or  Chrissy. 

Two  months  before  in  Lucerne,  she  had  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Keith  in  which  he  explained, 
with  businesslike  detail,  that  he  had  made  a  "strike" 
which  assured  him  a  good  income,  and  that,  immedi- 
ately upon  her  return  to  Blossom,  he  would  claim 
the  old  "promise."  Even  while  the  tiny,  inner  voice 
of  rebellion  protested  that  there  had  never  been  a  real 
promise,  April  was  telling  herself  that  she  had  let 
Keith  hope,  and  wait;  that  perhaps  real  love  was 
matter-of-fact  and  everyday-like,  like  Keith's  let- 
ter, like  all  his  letters,  and  that,  when  she  saw  him, 
and  he  told  her — it  would  be  like  her  dreams! 

But  why  had  he  not  come  to  the  station  to  meet 
her?  Perhaps — her  heart  stirred — he  had  wanted  to 
see  her  first,  alone.  He  would  not  even  ask  her  if 
she  loved  him — he  would  take  it  for  granted,  just 
as  he  had  taken  that  absurd,  childish  promise  for 
granted.  And  she  must  say  yes. 

A  sudden  step  startled  her,  sent  the  blood  pound- 
ing to  her  heart.  Of  course  it  was  Keith — someone 
had  sent  him  out  on  the  Point.  She  looked  wildly 
about  for  some  way  of  escape.  But  a  voice  that  was 
not  Keith's  hailed  her. 


282  APRILLY 

"Ah,  Miss  April!  I  have  to  come  out  here  to 
find  you !" 

"Michael  Brown!"  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  her 
gladness  in  her  eyes.  "Oh,  it's  so  good  to  see  you. 
It's  part  of — coming  home !" 

He  caught  her  outstretched  hands  and  held  them 
close.  His  eyes  swept  her  slim,  alert  figure,  rested  on 
her  face.  She  colored  under  the  intentness  of  his 
scrutiny. 

"Well,  it's — me !"  she  laughed,  pulling  her  hands 
away.  "Are  you — disappointed?" 

"I  was  looking  to  see  if  there  was  anything  left 
of  the  little  April  I  found  in  my  wardrobe !" 

"Oh,  there's  a  great  deal  of  her  left— ask  Toto! 
Do  you  know,  from  the  moment  we  started  for  home 
I  have  been  consumed  by  a  dread  that  all  you  Blossom 
people  might  find  me  different  and — grown-up?  Of 
course  I've  got  to  be  grown-up,  but  I  don't  want  to 
seem  so.  For  awhile  I  want  to  be  just  happy  at  being 
back  home  and  not  to  have  to  think  of  anything 
serious,  like  that  I'm  old  now  and  must  choose  a 
career  and  all  that.  I'm  afraid  I'm  dreadfully  friv- 
olous and  not  any  good  for  big  things !" 

Michael  Brown  suddenly  remembered  something 
Leila  Lightwood  had  said  about  April's  gift  of  hap- 
piness. April  went  on,  with  pretty  meekness :  "What 
is  there  that  an  April-creature  like  me  can  do?" 

Michael  Brown  held  back  the  answer  that  leaped 


APRIL'S  SUNSHINE  283 

to  his  tongue.  Something  of  it,  though,  burned  in 
his  eyes.  He  leaned  toward  April,  with  an  intensity 
that  frightened  her. 

"Aprilly!"  Miss  Manny's  name  fell  like  a  caress 
from  his  lips.  "This  old  world  is  so  puzzled  and  lost 
by  so  many  paths,  so  many  turnings,  so  many  beliefs, 
'so  many  preachers,  that  it's  forogtten  about  just  plain 
.happiness  and  kindness!  A  few  of  us — blazing  a 
trail  of  simple  living  with  the  real  things  in  life — " 
he  broke  off,  abruptly. 

"Michael!"  April's  voice  escaped  from  her,  in- 
voluntarily. It  was  pleading.  She  was  frightened. 
She  wanted  him  to  stop.  But  she  wanted  him,  more, 
to  go  on. 

"April,  dear,  I've  waited  six  years  — to  ask  you. 
I  want  you  to  be  my  wife.  I  want  you  to  love  me 
and  share  my  work.  What  I  have  to  offer  may 
not  seem  much  in  your  eyes  and  yet — I  believe  you 
will  think  it  worth  something.  Oh,  April,  I  love 
you!"  His  voice  faltered,  boyishly.  "I  must  have 
always  loved  you!  I've  tried  to  make  myself  think 
that  I  was  too  old  to  ask  you  to  love  me.  And  for  a 
long  time  I  thought  it  would  be  Keith  until,  one  day 
as  I  sat  out  here  on  the  rocks,  thinking  about  you,  I 
spied  this,  down  there  on  that  ledge."  He  dropped 
Keith's  little  seal  ring  into  her  hand.  "I  told  myself 
you  must  have  thrown  it  away.  I  took  it  as  a  sign 
that  I  might  dare  to  hope.  April, — look  at  me !"  For 
April  had  turned  her  face  away. 


284  APRILLY 

"Don't — "  she  cried,  in  a  miserable,  small  voice 
"Don't  say- — another  word,  please!  I  can't — listen." 

"April,  haven't  I  a  chance?" 

April  slowly  shook  her  head.  Michael  Brown 
rose  to  his  feet.  "Then  it  is  Keith.  Well,  dear,  I'm 
not  sorry  I  have  told  you — how  I  feel.  Don't  let  it 
grieve  you — or  make  any  difference  in  our  friend- 
ship. I  want  you  to  be  happy — more  than  anything 
else."  He  turned  abruptly  and  left  her. 

April  moved,  impulsively,  as  though  to  call  him 
back.  She  did  not  want  him  to  go  away — like  that. 
He  loved  her.  He  loved  her!  That  beautiful,  won- 
derful truth  sent  the  blood  pulsing  through  her  body 
until  it  seemed  as  though  her  heart  must  burst.  He 
must  not  go  away  until  she  had  told  him  how  proud 
she  was  to  have  his  love !  But  she  had  let  him  think 
she  loved  Keith,  that  she  was  going  to  marry  Keith. 
And  Keith  might  be  waiting,  now,  at  the  cottage  to 
see  her. 

Keith  was  not  there,  but  Chrissy  was.  April,  un- 
nerved and  a  little  hysterical,  was  startled  by  her 
embarrassed,  constrained  manner. 

"April,  may  I  talk  to  you  for  just  a  few  moments 
— alone?" 

"Why,  yes,  Chrissy.  We  can  sit  out  here  under 
the  trees.  Toto's  probably  taking  a  bit  of  a  wink,  as 
he  calls  it.  Poor  dear,  he  is  so  tired  of  hotels  and 
trains  and  boats.  And  Miss  Manny's  in  the  kitchen. 
What  is  it,  Chris?" 


APRIL'S  SUNSHINE  285 

April's  forced  composure  did  not  help  Chrissy 
with  her  errand.  She  flushed  uncomfortably. 

"It's  about  Keith.  He  didn't  want  me  to  say  any- 
thing to  you — he  thought  it  looked  as  though  he  was 
afraid  to,  but  I  just  made  up  my  mind  that  someone 
ought  to  say  something  to  prevent  unhappiness  all 
around.  Mistakes  can  sometimes  be  headed  off,  you 
see."  Chrissy  tried  to  make  her  tone  matter-of-fact. 
"Keith's  worrying  a  lot  over  an  understanding  he 
says  you  and  he  have — " 

"Oh,  Chrissy,"  interrupted  April,  her  cheeks  rose- 
red.  "So  that's  why  he  didn't  come  to  meet  me !  I 
can  guess.  He's  fallen  in  love — really  in  love — and 
he's  fretting  over  something  he  said  to  me  once,  years 
ago  when  we  were  just  children — " 

Chrissy  regarded  April  with  wide  eyes.  "And 
don't  you  care?" 

April's  voice  trembled  with  something  very  like 
laughter.  "Not  a  bit — dear  old  Keith.  I  love  him 
tremendously,  but  just  the  way  I  love  you  and  Rose. 
Oh,  Chris,  tell  me,  is  it  Rose?" 

Chrissy  was  watching  April  closely.  She  had 
dreaded  her  disagreeable  mission,  self-imposed  as  it 
was.  Could  April  be  pretending  this  curious  elation? 

Yes,  it's  Rose.  Isn't  that  funny,  when  they've 
known  each  other  for  so  long?  But  Rose  is  just  the 
girl  for  Keith,  she's  so  steady  she'll  help  him  along 
immensely."  Practical,  world-wise  Chrissy !  "You're 


286  APRILLY 

sure  you  don't  care  a  bit?"  she  finished,  childishly. 

"Oh,  Chrissy — care!"  April  caught  her  friend 
and  danced  her  about  under  the  apple  blossoms.  "I'm 
the  happiest  creature  on  earth.  Please  don't  think 
I'm  crazy.  Tell  Rose  and  Keith  that  I  adore  them 
both  and  shower  my  blessings  upon  them.  Nothing 
could  be  nicer.  But,  oh,  Chrissy — "  She  fell  back  and 
regarded  the  other  girl  with  wide,  serious  eyes. 
"Chrissy,  we're  all  really,  truly  grown-up  aren't  we? 
And  what  a  brick  you  are  to  do  this  just  so  that  there 
wouldn't  be  a  mistake.  Hurry  off,  old  dear !"  She 
pushed  the  startled  Chrissy  down  the  path.  And 
Chrissy  was  glad  to  go— she  knew  that  April's  excite- 
ment was  only  a  cloak  to  hide  a  really  stricken  heart — 
any  moment  it  might  fail  her ! 

But  the  "stricken  heart"  was  beating  madly  in  its 
great  joy.  April  waited  until  Chrissy  turned  into  the 
path  to  Forest  Hill,  then,  with  one  fleeting  look  over 
her  shoulder  at  the  quiet  cottage,  she  ran  down  the 
road  toward  the  town. 

The  old  garden  of  the  Rectory  lay  wrapped  in  the 
tranquil  glow  of  the  spring  twilight.  April  stole  into 
it  through  the  hedge.  She  paused  for  a  moment  in 
the  grass-grown  path.  High  above  her  in  the 
feathery  branches  a  robin  sang.  The  sweetness  of 
the  note  thrilled  the  girl,  hesitating,  before  her  Great 
Adventure.  The  long  window  of  the  study  was  open ; 
she  crept  softly  toward  it — over  its  sill. 


APRIL'S  SUNSHINE  287 

Michael  Brown  sat  at  his  desk,  his  head  dropped 
into  his  hand.  His  fingers  were  caressing  the  funny 
little  wreath  April  had  brought  to  him  as  a  welcome 
token,  years  ago. 

A  rustling  startled  him.  He  lifted  his  head  and 
saw  April  standing  in  the  window,  the  twilight  glow 
bright  behind  her.  At  her  abashed  smile,  at  the  deep 
flush  playing  on  her  cheeks,  his  heart  leaped.  In  her 
bravely  steady  glance  he  read  surrender. 

"April!"  He  sprang  toward  her,  with  out- 
stretched arms.  "April,"  he  repeated  softly, 
unbelieving. 

She  was  all-Aprilly.  "Michael — I've  come — 
I've — it  never  was  Keith !  It — it  always  was  you — • 
I  guess — I  know.  Michael,  if  you  want—'1 

"If— oh,  April  1" 


"The  Books  You  Like  to  Read 
at  the  Price  You  Like  to  Pay" 


There  Are  Two  Sides 
to  Everything — 

— including  the  wrapper  which  covers 
every  Grosset  &  Dunlap  book.  When 
you  feel  in  the  mood  for  a  good  ro- 
mance, refer  to  the  carefully  selected  list 
of  modern  fiction  comprising  most  of 
the  successes  by  prominent  writers  of 
the  day  which  is  printed  on  the  back  of 
every  Grosset  &  Dunlap  book  wrapper. 

You  will  find  more  than  five  hundred 
titles  to  choose  from — books  for  every 
mood  and  every  taste  and  every  pocket- 
book. 

Don't  forget  the  other  side,  but  in  case 
tie  wrapper  is  lost,  write  to  tbe  jublishert 
for  a  complete  catalog. 


There  is  a  Grosset  &  Duntap  Book 
for  every  mood  and  for  every  taste 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  029  965     1 


